#LOS ANGELES I AM YOUR WALLS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moralesluvr · 2 months ago

Text

PAID IN FULL | billie eilish.

୧ ‧₊˚ when you forget your money at your drug deal with billie, she makes you offer up another payment method.

pairings & aus. drugdealer!billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. drugs...obviously | smut | switch!billie & switch!reader | i think thats it word count. 6.4k (i am so sorry)

the alley feels much colder tonight.

there’s a breeze that nips at your skin as you tug your sweater closer to your chest, although the cold air continues creeping underneath your flesh and settling there. you breathe out and it’s icy, a white cloud passing through your lips as your legs quickened, desperate to get off out the cold.

your shoes are scuffing underneath the chipped and imperfect pavement as you walk, your heart practically beating out your chest as anxiety swelled within you, because it was dark, for one, the opiate of winter falling over los angeles, and it was already night, despite it being only seven thirty.

you fumble your nimble fingers in your pockets to fish out a cigarette and a lighter, setting the cigarette ablaze and taking a puff as you walked, hair flowing wildly in the wind.

you shove your hands deeper in your pockets as you approach the end of the alley. it’s quiet and appears even darker to you, though it’s always been the same. a smell of smoke fills your nostrils and your eyes scan the empty, abandoned buildings, until your eyes land on her.

billie.

billie had been your dealer for a couple months now, and she was your favorite out of any that you’d ever had. she could be a little bitchy, and she had her moments, but she was always on time and reliable, and plus, always supplied you with good shit.

she was clad in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, and your eyebrows furrowed at her nonchalance towards the icy cold. she was leaned up against a wall scrolling on her phone, a cigarette in her other hand as she looked up, locking eyes with you.

the only thing that illuminates the area now is the faint flicker of an old streetlight, which causes you to see billie wave you over with a slick smile, the faint curl of her lips greeting you without her saying a word first. you strut over to her quickly, and she places her hands in her pockets as she cocks her head to the side, “you’re a little late, princess.”

“i had to get gas.” you mangage, frigid fingers shaking slowly as you lifted your hand to take a drag of your cigarette, billie mimicking her actions. an obedient cloud of smoke leaves her lips as she quickly sucks it back in, and you roll your eyes at her, “show off.”

she doesn’t respond, she just drops her hand and leans up against the brick wall behind her, “so, you got the money? it’s thirty-five this time.”

you nod at billie and pull your wallet out from your purse that rests on your shoulders, opening it and expecting to see a two twenties laying there, but it’s completely empty.

your anxiety pumped through you as you shivered quietly, but not because of the cold. you could have sworn that you put the money in the wallet before you switched it out for your other one, but clearly, you were mistaken. but you’ve been hesitating too long, and billie’s eyebrow raises when you start tapping your pockets in a desperate attempt to find your cash.

billie’s eyes flicker over you, running a hand through her hair as she broke the silence, “what’s wrong, princess?”

“i….i forgot the money.” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

she pushes off the wall slowly, every movement deliberate and slow, like she’s wasting more time just to see you nervous. she echoes your statement, “forgot the money, huh?”

“yeah,” you mumble, avoiding her strong gaze. her eyes are low when she looks at you, and so dark that you can hardly tell they’re even blue anymore.

billie studies you for a moment, then jerks her head toward the corner of the building. she leaves fairly close by to your meeting spot, so she gestures to a street over, “c’mon, we’re not talking about this out here.”

you trail after her in silence, heart pounding with every step that you take, and you honestly feel like you might just throw up. she doesn’t talk to you the whole walk, she’s just quiet, apart from her humming a song or two every once and a while.

when you finally reach her place, your eyes catch how nice the exterior is. it’s all black and sleek, but with minimal windows. there’s two cars parked out front and you know that the black dodge is hers, but the hellcat— you’ve never seen that one before.

your eyes continue to scan the nature of her home after she unlocks the door without a word, pushing it open to reveal what’s inside.

the air’s thick, heavy with the smell of weed, there’s a the low hum of a tv in the background, although it hardly distracts you from the guy that’s sprawled out on her couch.

he’s counting money— stacks of it. his fingers move quick and methodical, flipping through the bills nonchalantly. there’s a faint sound of rap music that’s coming from his loud airpods, and he doesn’t even look up when you walk in.

billie tosses her keys onto the counter carelessly and finally breaks the silence that burdens you, but her words aren’t directed at you. her eyes land on the mysterious guy on the couch, “yo, go roll me a J real quick.”

“you could always say please,” he mocks, though he finishes off his last stack of money and places it neatly on the coffee table, rising from his spot and venturing into the kitchen.

now that you and billie are alone, your throat feels thick and it becomes difficult to swallow. never in life have you cheated billie or not given her a payment on time, and your heart races at the thought of your consequence.

she’s not the type to hurt you at all, and you know that. for months she’s called you her favorite customer, and she’ll slip little compliments to you here and there, but it isn’t often. you’ll catch her checking you out every once and a while, her eyes lingering on your tits too long or grazing your hand when she passes you your weed, you notice it all.

“so,” she drags out the vowel, twisting on your heel to look at you as you place your bag down on the hook next to the door. you’re standing awkwardly, and you don’t even realize that you’re holding your breath until she gets closer to you. “you really forgot the money, huh, princess?”

you nod stupidly, “yeah…i’m sorry bil, i can—“

“you know, princess,” she cuts you off, her voice soft and slightly teasing as her eyelashes flutter at you, “this isn’t exactly how business works, i know you know that. when you come to me, you bring me my shit, and i give you yours. not ‘tryna be a bitch, love. just how shit rolls. you understand?”

you nod quickly, heart pounding as you broke eye contact out of nervousness. you stare at your shoes, “i know, i know. i messed up. it won’t happen again—“

she cuts you off with a chuckle, leaning back onto a wall and crossing one foot in front of another, “oh, i know it won’t. but the thing is…” she pauses as you look up, her eyes locking with yours, “you still want what you came for, don’t you?”

you freeze, the weight of her words pressing against your chest. it seems like with every word exchanged between the two of you, she grows closer and closer to you. you gulp and you nod again, slower this time. “well…yeah.”

that makes billie shoot you a grin, so close now that the tip of your noses kiss. she looks up at you with those sultry eyes, making your skin feel hot as you returned eye contact.

“you know, i could just send you packing. but…” she tilts her head, her dark hair catching the dim light, “i think we can work something out.”

your breath catches as her gaze drops, trailing over you in a way that feels heavy, deliberate. she doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make your skin tingle. then, with a smirk that makes your stomach flip, she turns toward the hallway.

“come with me real quick,” she says over her shoulder, her tone casual but slick. she pauses for a moment when the guy from the couch hands billie a perfectly rolled joint.

you hesitate for a moment, glancing at the guy that now took his position back on the couch. he’s still counting money, not even sparing you a glance, mouthing the words to some song playing on his phone as billie began to walk. you take a shaky breath and follow her, your heart pounding louder with every step.

the hallway feels narrower than it should, her presence in front of you filling the space in a way that makes it hard to breathe. she leads you into a room at the end, the door creaking slightly as she pushes it open. her room is a chaotic mix of shadows and soft light, the faint smell of her perfume mingling with the lingering scent of weed.

she turns to face you, leaning back against the doorframe with her arms crossed. her smirk hasn’t faded, and her eyes stay locked on yours, her expression unreadable but knowing.

“so, princess,” she says, her voice dropping just slightly, “let’s talk about how you’re gonna make this up to me.”

you gulp silently as you eye billie, who’s leans up against her dresser, fishing for her lighter out of some drawer. her shirt is lifted slightly above her waistline, her belly button piercing and a tattoo sticking out, making your breath hitch.

she looked undeniably good, and when she stretched to her full height to look at you, she offered you a cocky smirk, “you got a staring problem?”

“i— no.” you shrug, trying to keep your cool as billie’s eyes lingered on you. she plopped on her bed and lit the joint, taking a long drag and sighing of relief, throwing her head back.

there’s a moment of silence between the two of you until she looks at you, taking another hit before speaking, “so, how you wanna do this, baby?”

you feel the air grow heavier much her question hanging in the space between you as you mindlessly stare at her. you can feel how stupid you look, and your mouth opens but no sound comes out.

billie’s gaze is fixed on you, a cloud smoke curling lazily around her plump lips as she exhales. her eyes narrow at you slightly, and her smirk sharp and cutting. she doesn’t say anything at first, letting the tension sit until it’s almost unbearable.

“…cat got your tongue?” billie drawls, tapping the ash from the joint into a tray on her nightstand. she settles further into her covers and sits with her legs crossed, “or are you just hoping i’ll let you slide?”

you clear your throat, shifting uncomfortably under her stare. you back up off the doorframe and rub your hands on your jeans nervously, palms incredibly sweaty. “i just… what do you mean?” you ask, playing dumb although you know damn well what she means.

billie snorts, a low, humorless sound, and shakes her head. she already knows that you’re playing stupid, and she sits up in seriousness and gives you stern eyes.

“don’t play dumb,” she says flatly, leaning back against the headboard, one leg bent while the other stretches out casually. “you came to me without cash, can’t just give my shit away, now can i? that’s not how this works. you know this, princess.”

your cheeks flush, the heat creeping up your neck as her words sink in. the pet names only continued to make your skin hot, and you shift your weight onto your left side, trying to mask the fact that all though you’re in pretty serious trouble with a literal drug dealer, it turned you on a little bit.

you force yourself to look at billie as she tilts her head at you, her smirk curling. “you’ve got nothing to say now?”

you swallow hard, fumbling for a response, billie she doesn’t give you the chance to even speak. she pats the space beside her on the bed, her voice dropping into a softer, almost mocking tone. “c’mere, princess. let’s figure this out, yeah?”

your legs feel like they’re moving on their own as you cross the room, every step making your pulse pound harder in your chest. her tattooed hand grazes your ass when you sit next to her, and your skin crawls out of nervousness when her hand doesn’t move, it just stays there.

billie doesn’t say anything at first. she just passes you the joint with her free hand, her fingers brushing yours deliberately and sending a jolt through you.

“take a hit,” she orders, her tone leaving no room for argument.

so you obey, inhaling deeply. the smoke burns your throat a little, but it’s soothing when the weed starts to take effect after a couple minutes pass.

you force yourself to keep it together, exhaling slowly as you take a few more hits of the joint. billie’s eyes don’t leave you the entire time, her usual smirk returning.

without much of a warning, she pulls you onto her lap with one swift movement, toying with the edge of your sweater as she teases the skin of your abdomen.

“such a good girl,” she murmurs, but there’s an edge to her voice, like she’s amused by how easy you are to control, how easy you are to get so worked up.

your breath hitches as her hand brushes against your thigh, her touch light but deliberate. you feel like you’re nearly overheating now, your skin tingling as she tickles the flesh of your back with her nails.

“you sure about this?” billie asks, her voice low, though her tone inquires if you’re going to back out— almost like she’s daring you to.

deep down, you didn’t really want to back out. she looked so good right now, and you were a high horny mess that desperately just needed some type of relief.

so you nod in agreement, your breath catching as her fingers trail up your arm now, and to your neck. billie doesn’t wait for a second confirmation from you— she doesn’t need to. instead, she closes the distance between the both of you, her lips brushing the corner of your jaw before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze again.

billie’s teasing you, and it only makes the pool in your panties even wetter as she messes with the string of your thong that pokes out from your low rise jeans.

“good,” she whispers, her smirk widening as she shifts closer, her intentions crystal clear as your high further sets in slowly.

the air feels thicker now, every second stretching out as you sink deeper into the haze of your high. billie’s presence is overwhelming, her sharp gaze fixed on you, unrelenting, and you hate the fact that she’s so good at eye contact. it’s like it has no affect on her, but for you, it flusters you like no other.

she tilts her head slightly, taking another slow drag from the joint before letting the smoke curl out between her lips. her smirk sharpens, cutting through the silence.

“you’re high?” she asks you, and she obviously is because of how red her eyes are, and because of how gentle her voice is. it’s still strong and seductive, her usual nature prominent, but laced with something sweet, something warm.

you nod slowly at her, your throat dry as you manage to murmur, “yeah.” the word comes out soft, barely audible, but you know she heard it. she smiled at you, her eyes never leaving yours as she closed her eyes for a second.

billie leans back against the headboard with her eyes shut, like she’s got all the time in the world to do whatever she wants. and she does, it’s all about her right now— but you don’t hate it. a part of you is subtly glad that you forgot the money.

you didn’t have a crush on billie, but what you did know is that she was fine as fuck, and that she was much nicer and more caring than all of your other dealers. she wasn’t just someone who sold you weed, she’d call you and check up on you, or invite you out to get together just for a smoke. you though the relations were a little too intimate just for business, but it never bothered you.

you watch as billie’s eyes flutter open, her thumb brushing small circles over your skin. “you look good like this….you’re so pretty.”

her voice is soft and alluring, making a gentle smile creep up onto your face as you press yourself against her chest. you can’t think of anything to say back, can’t focus on anything except the way her fingers linger on your leg. the haze of the high makes it harder to push back the nervous excitement thrumming through your chest, and the feeling of boldness hits you hard.

“you’re too quiet,” she mutters, her voice quieter than usual. her arms snake around your waist as she pulls you closer, her embrace making your skin tingle from the sensitivity that the weed brings. she’s so pretty— pink lips formed in a natural pout, her long eyelashes fluttering against her freckled cheeks— it’s so fucking hard not to kiss her.

you don’t say anything to her, mainly out of fear that you’ll say something stupid. your heart is pounding too loud, the mix of her touch and the high making everything feel like it’s way too much. billie cocks her head to the side at your silence, leaning in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of her woody perfume mingling with the smell of smoke.

“i wanna kiss you.” she murmurs honestly, her voice soft but commanding. it’s more like an order than an expression of her wants, and by the look on her face, she already knows you’ll do what she says.

before you can overthink it, her lips are on yours, firm and unrelenting. the kiss hits you like a spark to dry wood, lighting you up from the inside out. her arms travel from your back to your waist, one ring-clad hand coming up to hold your face. pulling you closer as her other hand slides up to your neck, billie’s fingers curl lightly around your jaw to tilt your face just the way she likes it.

she tastes like smoke and something sweet, and the contrast is dizzying. her lips move against yours with a rough kind of precision, like she’s in total control, like she’s been waiting for this. when her teeth graze your bottom lip, a soft gasp escapes you, and she smirks into the kiss, the curve of her mouth cocky and knowing.

“always been such a good listener,” she mutters against your lips, her voice low and dragged. you open your mouth to respond, but she doesn’t allow you to, her lips smashing back onto yours. it’s a little slower this time, more deliberate, like she’s savoring the moment. it’s all her high— the way she moves, touched you, it’s much more relaxed and gentle than usual, though her lips are unrelenting.

her fingers find themselves tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch, and she takes advantage of it, deepening the kiss. all you can feel is her— her hands on you, her mouth moving against yours, her presence wrapping around you like a vice.

when she finally pulls back, her forehead rests against yours, her breath mingling with yours as you both catch up. her eyes flicker at you. there’s something different about them, they’re so much bigger and doe-like, and she whispers quietly to you, “i want you.”

“me?” you ask stupidly, but it’s a genuine question. sure, billie would flirt with you from time to time, but you didn’t expect her to be so bold about it. you could always tell when she was nervous because she’d beat around the bush or get really quiet, and this sudden confidence shocked you.

billie nods, “want you so bad, baby…i want you to touch me.”

the moment stretches between you, her breath warm against your skin, her forehead still pressed gently to yours. you can see every detail of her face, every freckle and every flicker of emotion in her eyes. they’re impossibly wide, soft now, like she’s peeled back something that’s always been unseen. her vulnerability leaves you with no words, and you’re not sure what to say, because this kind of thing was always so rare.

you swallow hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you manage to say, “okay.”

billie’s lips curve into the smallest smile, and before she can say anything, you close the gap, your lips brushing hers again. this time it’s softer, slower, like you’re both exploring the moment. her hands slide up to your neck, her fingers threading gently through your hair as she melts into you, her earlier confidence giving way to something more delicate.

when you finally pull back, her eyes stay closed for a moment, her lashes brushing her cheeks. you study her face, the way she looks almost shy now, and it makes your heart ache in the best way. you take a steadying breath, your fingers brushing her cheek, and you ask softly, “what do you want me to do, billie?”

her eyes flutter open at the question, and her lips part like she’s surprised you’d even ask. she hesitates for a beat, her gaze darting away before finding yours again. “just… be gentle,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, like she’s sharing a secret she’s never told anyone.

your chest tightens at the sincerity in her tone, the way her usual bravado has faded into something so unguarded. “always,” you promise softly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

the way you kiss her, it’s soft and telling, and so very sweet. you’re are quick as your hands travel to the hem of her tank top, kneading at her skin through the fabric as she falls victim to your touch.

you break the kiss, lips still lingering on hers as you ask her, pulling at the hem of her shirt, “can i…take this off?”

“yeah.” billie says in an obvious, bouncy tone, making the both of you giggle against each other as you kiss her again. it’s more intense this time, it’s hungry and vulnerable and messy when your lips part, allowing billie’s tongue to shyly intertwine with yours.

your fingers slip underneath her tank top and wrap themselves around her bare nipple, relishing in the pretty noises she makes as you do so. she pulls you closer to her out of desperation, little moans and whines escaping her lips as she clings to you like she needs you.

although it kills you to do so, you pull back from billie’s lips and give her calm, yet passive eyes. your high is at its peak now, your confidence grown as you grab the hem of billie’s tank, pulling it up and over her head in one swift motion.

you don’t talk, because there isn’t much to say. you just turn your head to kiss billie’s cheek, the little buds of affection traveling from her face to her neck, to her shoulders and tits, which makes her let out a satisfied moan. your hand comes up to toy with her right breast as your lips latch onto her left one, her hands finding themselves in your hair, showing you how good you make her feel.

“keep…going…please,” billie murmurs gently, a sigh of satisfaction hidden in her tone, “feels s’good, my god.”

you adhere to her request, and very well at that— your movements not ceasing as you look up at her, eyes red and intoxicating.

by the way she’s looking, tits out, head thrown back with sweet moans filling the silent space, it’s impossible for you not to cum right then and there. it feels so much more amplified than usual, your skin literally tingling with every moan that fills your ears.

you finally move lower and lower until your chin rests on the waistband of billie’s sweatpants, toying with them with your fingertips.

“this okay, bils?” you ask for confirmation, eyes flickering up at her, “i wanna take care of you…wanna tell you how sorry i am for forgetting my money.”

“s’okay, just fucking touch me already.” billie orders, her lips quirking into a small smile, but it’s not cocky or teasing—it’s real, like she’s ready for whatever you have to give.

you slide her sweatpants down with a swift motion, cold air channeling goosebumps all over the girls skin.

something clicks in you. you don’t know what, but it’s hungry and eager, and your impatience does nothing but grows, and grows quickly. so you pull billie’s navy blue panties to the side, exposing her pretty pink cunt, making your own grow even wetter, if at all possible.

“so pretty,” you coo, leaning closer to where your nose rests on her clit, “gonna make you feel so good, you know that? just sit and relax, i wanna give you a real good apology.”

she does nothing but nod, and you place two of your fingers in your mouth to lubricate them before placing them in billie’s pussy, the wetness coating your digits with ease as you curled your fingertips. you stop for a second, and when she gives you a look of confirmation— you can’t stop yourself. she looks so gorgeous in front of you, pussy swallowing your fingers whole as she bucked her hips into the air, “f-fuck…y/n! please…keep…k-keep going…”

“oh, billie…” you hum, fingers relentless as you thrust harder into her cunt, “see how sorry i am yet? i would say it won’t happen again…but i kind of like seeing you like this, you look so fuckin’ good. do you feel good, too? hm, baby?”

“mhm.” billie hums, eyes fixated on you as your tongue grazed her clit, making her gasp. your movements are slow, fingertips gently pressing against that sweet spot inside of her, her moans growing louder as her back lifted off of the covers.

you kissed her clit repeatedly, taking the bud in your mouth to suckle on it. your free hand rubs a sensitive spot on her thigh, making billie’s moans amplify as pleasure coursed through her body. and since getting her off makes you get off, your skin tingles as you moan into her pussy.

“doing….s’good, for….me….” you murmur in between pecks, “you gonna cum, bils? that’s all i want…just wanna make you feel good.”

“close.” are the only words that come out of her mouth, repeated like a broken record as you feel her tighten around you.

you’re a little dizzy from the high which makes the both of you giggle, breaking a little tense energy from everything, which makes you smile. billie’s laughs are immediately halted when your fingers quicken, the only sounds filling the air being wet and filthy, accompanied by the both of your moans.

“i’m— i’m right there…please! i’m gonna—!” billie yelps as you coo at her, little praises slipping past your lips as you feel her cunt flutter around your fingers. you don’t stop, you just slow down your movements linearly and kiss at her thighs, helping her through her release.

“such a good girl…bils,” you speak softly, “just showin’ you how sorry i am…”

she looks up at you, and for the first time, you see tears shining in her eyes. you’ve never seen her cry— and it’s a contrasting level of intimacy from the one before as she blinks them away quickly, shaking her head with a nervous laugh. “that was fuckin’…” she mutters, “so good.”

“well, i’m just giving back what you give me,” you say softly with a laugh, “for this free high.”

the air becomes thick with tension for a second. you rest your head on billie’s thigh and draw lazy circles on the skin as she finally speaks up, her hands finding themselves toying with your hair gently, “can i ask you something?”

“mhm.” you hum, eyes closing as you rest your idle hand against her thigh.

billie takes in a deep breath, “i know this was all supposed to be because you didn’t pay but…”

“but?”

she’s quiet now. you can tell she’s a little nervous, so you roll your neck to the side to look up at her, lips contorting into a shit-eating grin. confidence was oozing out of you, glossed over your eyes and shining through your skin, but you didn’t mind. you wanted her, you needed her, and that was the only thing fueling every statement that came out of your mouth.

“you wanna fuck me, don’t you?” you giggle, sitting up now, “s’okay, billie. just touch me, and consider it another payment for next time i buy.”

“god,” she mewls, her hands taking home on your waist as she pulled you underneath her, immediately unfastening the button on your jeans with a smirk, “couldn’t hide it much longer, princess….i need you so badly.”

“but what about the paym—“

“fuck the payment.” is all she says, practically ripping your jeans off as her eyes met with your lacy thong, making her smile in satisfaction. she immediately slides them off after appreciating their beauty, your pussy on display for her as she realizes that your inner thighs are completely coated in your slick.

“what’s got you worked up, mama?” she asks you, wasting absolutely no time as she presses two nimble fingers inside your cunt, disregarding the fact that she’s still got rings on, the cool metal making your skin tingle, “does fuckin’ your drug dealer turn you on? hm?”

as you find the words to respond, billie’s tongue finds its way inside your pussy, replacing the fingers that now rub tight circles along your clit. a loud gasp leaves your lips as your fists find themselves in billie’s sheets, pressure already building up in your abdomen as she fucks you with her fingers, hard.

“you better answer me, or i’ll stop.” she almost laughs at you, but you can tell she’s bluffing because she does nothing but thrust into you harder, making you bite your lip to fight your moans.

words never come no matter how hard you try, and billie rips away your pleasure so abruptly that it makes you whine slowly. but what makes your eyes go wide is when she stands up without saying anything, digging into her drawer like she’s looking for something.

it’s scary that you don’t know what until she turns around, gasping audibly when you see her strap in one hand, and a vibrator in the other.

you weren’t sure what had taken over her from the past hour that you and her were alone, but it wasn’t like you could back out now. you needed her bad, and plus, this was your ultimate payment, right?

“get up.” billie orders at you, doing her last adjustments on the strap before making her way back over to your lonesome spot on her bed, the fabric below you a little wet from where you sat. you wait until she lays down on the bed as she pulls you on top of her, wasting no time to have you sink onto the faux cock.

you winced at the sudden stretch, and billie hands you the pretty pink vibrator with soft doe eyes, “you okay? say the word and i’ll stop.”

and when you tell her that it’s fine, and that you’re okay, her nails dig into your hips, her other hand steadying the vibrator onto your clit as she turns it on.

your face contorts in pleasure as billie bids you a kiss to the forehead, your whole body shaking against hers as you place your arms on her thighs to steady your weight. your high plus the fullness of the strap makes you feel like you’re in a haze, eyes fluttering open and closed sporadically, bending at the roots due to how harsh you blink.

“feels good, huh?” billie giggles, slurring her words a little as her wrist flicks to find that sweet spot on your clit, the vibrator seesawing back and forth, the satisfaction summoning a warm feeling to blossom against your skin.

“so good.” you whine out, succumbing to billie’s touch as her hips rock into yours, your walls tightening around the strap. she grabs your chin and taps your cheek with her red-tinted fingernails, tutting at you, “tsk tsk, baby, look at me. you can do it, i know you can.”

you let out coos out pleasure when you force your eyes open, and billie smiles at your eagerness to satisfy her. she kisses you as a reward, bitting your lip to prompt a moan out of you before pressing a button on the toy slickly, its intensity rising as you gasp.

“fuck!” you seethe through gritted teeth, bubbles of pleasure erupting in your abdomen as you felt your skin grow hotter and hotter. billie squeezes your ass, flashing you a pretty white smile, though there’s nothing comforting about it. she talks to you like you’re pathetic for hardly holding out this long, needy and desperate as you fuck yourself against the strap.

“gonna cum for me already, baby? you look so desperate to, i know you wanna— just look at you.”

little ‘yes’s pass through your lips as your gasps get louder and louder, broken chunks of billie’s name echoing throughout her dim bedroom, your orgasm on the forefront of your mind as your hips sway against her with desperation.

“billie—“

“it’s okay, princess,” she coos at you, grabbing a fistful of your hair to pull you closer to her, lips littering against your shoulders, “cum for me baby, it’s alright, i’ve got you.”

at her command, a wave of pleasure washes over you, your arousal glistening against the strap as you whine, sensitivity spreading to every part of your body as you cum hard. billie’s thrusts slow exponentially with regard for how delicate you are. she cradles you like a precious thing, whispering sweet nothings to do about what a good girl you are, stroking your hair and kissing your cheeks intimately.

when the stars finally come down and your eyes can focus again, you lay against billie’s bare chest with your own, completely nude with her skin grazing yours. you don’t even remember getting cleaned up and slipping underneath the covers, but you try to focus on your breathing as billie’s hands find yours.

for a long moment, neither of you speak, the only sound the soft rhythm of your breaths evening out, matching each other’s. her fingers trail absentmindedly along your arm, tracing invisible shapes that send small shivers across your skin. you tilt your head to look at her, and her eyes meet yours, still soft and a little hazy, but clear enough to hold an expression you can’t quite decipher.

“you okay?” billie’s voice is quiet and she’s got a sparkle in her eyes, her usual cocky tone replaced with something gentler and a little more vulnerable.

you nod, brushing a hand lightly over her arm. “yeah… you?”

she hesitates, her fingers pausing mid-trace against your skin before she nods. “yeah,” she says softly, then bites her lip like she’s holding back something that strikes you as confidential.

you shift slightly, turning to face her more fully, kissing her shoulder before looking up at her, your voice quiet but insistent. “billie?”

her eyes flicker to yours, and for a moment, she looks nervous, like she’s trying to decide whether or not to say what’s on her mind. finally, she sighs, her fingers resuming their absent tracing on your arm.

“this… it’s not just business to me,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “it never has been. you’re fucking beautiful, and so sweet…and i…”

she pauses for a second, and your heart skips at her words, and you reach out to brush a strand of loose hair away from her face.

“it’s not just…business to me either,” you say softly, your voice steady despite the way your chest feels like it’s about to burst. “you mean more to me than that, billie. i just didn’t say anything…”

billie lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head. “you kept this shit a secret for this long?” she mutters, her cheeks flushing. “i know i have too, but you always seemed more confrontational than i am.”

you look at her, your thumb brushing lightly over her cheek as your eyebrows raise, “me? confront you? today i forgot my money and i thought you were gonna fuckin’ shoot me, not fuck me. i didn’t know you even saw me in that way.”

her eyes search yours, and for a moment, she looks like she doesn’t quite believe you. she always thought you would say something first if any feelings arise, and that’s what kept her quiet. but then her lips twitch into a small, genuine smile, one that makes your lips mimic hers, and she runs her thumb over your cheek. she then leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back to look at you again. “i don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” she says quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “i want you. not just for tonight, not just for… deals. i want all of you.”

your chest swells at her confession, and you reach out to take her hand, lacing your fingers with hers with a smile. “you have me. i don’t want anyone else but you.”

her breath hitches, and for a moment, she looks like she might cry, but she blinks it away, squeezing your hand tightly. “good,” she whispers, her voice so soft it’s almost lost in the stillness of the room.

you smile, leaning in to kiss her softly, letting the moment linger as a comfortable silence falls over the both of you like a blanket. you giggle against her chest, and she gives you an inquisitive look as you glance up at her,

“so…do i get free shit now?”

send me an ask to be added to my taglist!

taglist: @vharperr | @47lake

#‧₊˚✩ — 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒!#ts SUCKS but whatever #enjoy !#billie eilish smut #billie ellish lyrics #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x you #billie eilish snaps #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish imagines #billie eilish #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x y/n

329 notes · View notes

kairawrites · 6 months ago

Text

first match.

author's note: first story I am sharing. please let me know if you want more for jude.

🌺masterlist🌺

pairing: jude bellingham x singer!reader

kiss prompt: Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.

summary: After a nasty breakup and a smear campaign by your vengeful ex, your PR team goes into hyperdrive, searching for a way to salvage your reputation as you finalize your sophomore album. To reclaim your title as America's sweetheart, you reluctantly agree to 'date' footballer Jude Bellingham. After a successful and perfectly planned meet-cute, you realize the plan might actually work. To keep the rumor mill spinning, Jude invites you to Madrid to watch him play.

You sit stiffly in the plush leather chair, your gaze fixed on a random spot on the far wall. The spacious office of your record label, with its panoramic view of Los Angeles, feels more like a cage than a refuge. Your fingers toy absentmindedly with a loose thread on your sweater, the silence in the room heavy with unspoken tension. Last night was another sleepless one, your mind spinning with the chaos of the last few months.

The door creaks open, and Lara, your manager, strides in with her usual brisk efficiency. But it’s the man following her who catches you off guard. Tall and athletic, with a calm self-assurance, he immediately seems different from anyone you usually deal with during one of Lara’s many SOS meetings.

Unlike the man next to him, who wears a suit, he’s dressed in a well-fitted navy blackbomber jacket over a crisp white T-shirt, adding a casual yet polished touch. His dark jeans are tailored to fit just right, and his sneakers are sleek and clean, hinting at their designer pedigree without being overtly flashy. A simple silver chain peeks out from beneath his shirt. He wears a black fitted cap that he removes as he scans the room. His dark curls are neatly styled, and his eyes are a striking shade of deep brown—intense and thoughtful.

You turn to Lara, your irritation evident. “You didn’t say we were meeting with another artist. I’m not doing a feature with a random guy.”

Lara, however, ignores your protest, her focus on the two men before her. “Y/N, this is Jude Bellingham,” she introduces the young man with an upbeat, professional tone. She motions for you to stand. Doing so, you quickly shake his hand before sinking back into your chair. “Jude, meet Y/N.”

“Pleasure,” Jude grins, his eyes lingering on you as you lift your phone from the table.

Email Hendrix new song. You ignore the calendar notification before placing your phone back onto the table.

You were supposed to submit the new song last week, but it has been rescheduled for the third time. You pinch the bridge of your nose, forcing yourself to focus on the conversation you had zoned out of.

“Thank you for fitting us in during your vacation,” Lara says with a smile as your gaze drifts across the table.

You stare just long enough to take in the polite smile he offers. He’s handsome, you note distantly. “What’s your name again?” you ask, your voice flat.

“Jude Bellingham,” he repeats, his voice steady, though you can see the hint of surprise in his eyes.

You nod absently, not hiding your lack of interest. “Never heard of you.”

Lara’s eyes widen, and she quickly looks between you and Jude, an apologetic smile on her face. “I’m so sorry, Jude,” she says hastily. “She’s been…out of the loop for a while. She kinda keeps her head in the sand when working on new music.”

Jude’s lips twitch into a small, amused smile as he takes a seat beside his manager, who has been silently observing the exchange. “No worries,” he says, his tone easygoing.

He attempts to hold eye contact, but your gaze drops as Lara passes you an iPad.

Jude, however, can’t help but stare for a moment longer. He knows exactly who you are. He’s seen the headlines, the endless parade of tabloid articles that have taken over his social media feeds in recent months:

*"America’s Sweetheart Caught Cheating?”*

*"Ryan West’s Heartbreak: Y/N’s Betrayal?"*

*"Ryan West: Played a Fool by Y/N? Singer Dumped After He Helps Secure Her First Grammy!"*

*"From Darling to Villain: The Fall of Y/N."*

The headlines were relentless, painting you as the villain in the messy, public breakup with Ryan West, the wild, playboy singer whose antics are as legendary as his music. Jude had seen the pictures throughout your relationship—snaps of a happy couple slowly morphing to you tearful and exhausted outside of clubs and in the passenger seat of Ryan’s car, Ryan’s angry rants during concerts, and the public’s merciless scrutiny of every detail. The narrative turned on you overnight, casting you as the one who shattered the fairytale, though it’s clear to him now, seeing you in person, that there’s much more to the story.

You’re undeniably beautiful, even though your appearance starkly contrasts with the perfectly curated photos on your Instagram. Your skin glows softly in the muted light of the office, and your long dark locks are pulled back into a simple ponytail. Without makeup, your natural beauty is evident, but there’s a guardedness about you, a weariness that clings to you like a shadow. You’re wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, and your lips are set in a firm line. Your dark, eyes remain focused anywhere but on him. You’re present in body but somewhere else in your mind, uninterested in the moment and, by extension, in him.

Lara notices how Jude’s eyes linger on your features, a hint of admiration in his gaze. She gently but firmly pulls your chair closer to hers, her expression shifting to one of urgency. As Jude leans over to better hear his manager speak, Lara shoots you a sharp glare. “Do you really not know who that is?” she hisses quietly. “Didn’t you read the email I sent?”

You shake your head, already annoyed by the direction this conversation is taking.

“He’s one of the biggest footballers in the world right now,” Lara explains. “He’s just finished a fantastic season with Real Madrid and is on vacation after helping his national team reach the finals of the Euros.”

“Throwing out accolades isn’t going to make me suddenly know who this guy is, Lara. I don’t watch soccer—”

“For the love of God, please do not call it that to his face,” Lara winces. “Since you didn’t read my email, here it is. He’s basically a household name for every fan of the sport. This isn’t just some random guy we’re talking about—Jude Bellingham is a huge deal. Kids want to grow up to be him, women want to sleep with him, and men want to be him. This is a massive opportunity, so you need to make this work because, frankly, we don’t have many other options right now. The media has been brutal, and we need to change the narrative.”

Change the narrative–the phrase that has appeared in every text, phone call, email, and conversation with Lara from the past six months.

You take in her words, feeling a mix of irritation and resignation. The last thing you want is to be forced into something like this, but you also know Lara’s right. If this can help you regain some control over the situation, it might be worth it.

“Fine,” you say at last, your voice laced with reluctance. “But let’s keep it simple.”

Lara nods, visibly relieved. Her swift response suggests she’s eager to finalize things before you change your mind. “Thank you. Now, let’s get this started on the right foot.”

You straighten your posture as Lara retrieves a stack of iPads from her purse. Powering the first on, she slides it across the table. Your expression remains guarded as you look at Jude. He seems relaxed, though there’s an air of curiosity about him as he watches you.

Jude clears his throat, attempting to ease the awkwardness. “Nice to meet you,” he says, his voice steady despite your apparent lack of interest. “I’m actually a big fan of your music.”

“Thank you,” you mutter, barely audible. “And thanks for coming.”

“Y/N, Jude’s team approached us with a proposal that could be mutually beneficial,” Lara explains. “We think it’s a great opportunity for both of you to take control of the media narratives for each of your careers.”

As she begins explaining the details of the contract, you lean forward to start reading it, trying to focus on the terms. You attempt to ignore the brown eyes carefully watching you from across the table by zooming in on the document. You skip each page, focusing on the bolded text.

**Duration**: The PR stunt relationship will last for six months, giving both parties a clear timeframe for the arrangement. The time can be adjusted to fit the likings of both parties.

**Public Appearances**: Both parties agree to attend a minimum of five public events together, including concerts, charity functions, and social gatherings, to ensure maximum media coverage.

**Social Media Engagement**: Both will make joint social media posts and coordinate public appearances to generate buzz and maintain public interest.

**Media Interviews**: Both parties will participate in at least three joint interviews or promotional activities, designed to keep the media engaged and the narrative active.

**Behavioral Expectations**: Both parties are expected to maintain a positive public image and avoid any controversial behavior that could negatively impact the arrangement.

**Privacy Clauses**: Provisions are included to protect personal boundaries and ensure that certain aspects of your private lives remain confidential.

**Termination Conditions**: The contract includes terms for early termination, specifying any penalties or requirements for ending the arrangement before the agreed-upon end date.

You bite your lip, unable to hold in a nagging thought. You glance at Jude before looking back at Lara. “I don’t date athletes. My fans know that.”

Jude raises an eyebrow, a cheeky grin forming on his lips. “That’s fair. But, well, we’ve seen how it turned out with musicians. You might need to give an athlete a try.”

His smile spreads as he notes the narrowing of your eyes.

“I mean,” you huff directing your attention to Lara. “Won’t people be suspicious if I suddenly fall head over heels with someone like him? He’s not my type.”

“I can be pretty convincing.”

As you approach the security gate, you are greeted by shocked but excited murmurs. Fans recognize you immediately, their phones out, capturing every moment as you present your ticket. You pose for a few quick pictures, deflecting questions about whether you are here specifically to see Jude play. “Just here to enjoy the game!” you say with a smile, trying to stay composed despite the intense scrutiny.

“Follow me,” Toby Bishay, Jude’s best friend, says with a reassuring smile, breaking through your anxious thoughts. His warm smile brings one to your lips. “I’ll show you to your seat.”

“Just stick with Toby,” Jude assured you through a brief text exchange earlier in the morning. “He'll keep an eye on you. Glad you had a safe flight. See you after the match."

You trail after Toby, trying to shake off the feeling of being under a microscope. The perfectly crafted “meet cute,” which happened shortly after your initial meeting, was captured by paparazzi in LA, not taking long to circulate. The rumors exploded, and the world wondered when you’d be spotted together again. The time finally came nearly three weeks later, and now you find yourself on the biggest stage in the football world, every eye on you.

The electric hum of excitement buzzes through Santiago Bernabéu Stadium as you follow Toby through the corridors, the air thick with anticipation. Thousands of fans are already in their seats.

“Have you ever been to a game before?” Toby asks, glancing back at you.

“No, this is my first time,” you admit, feeling a little self-conscious at the admission.

“Then you picked a great game for your debut,” Toby says, guiding you through the maze of hallways. “The atmosphere here is insane–unlike anything else.”

You study him as he glances at his phone, wondering how much he knew about the relationship between you and his best friend.

“Jude pulled out the stops,” he chuckles, pausing to hold the door for you. “Wanted you to have the best seats in the house. Remind me to have him invite you more often.”

As you emerge into the open, the sheer magnitude of the stadium hits you like a tidal wave. The sea of fans stretches out in every direction, a sea of white Real Madrid jerseys and waving flags. The stands are a swirling mosaic of movement and color, with scarves held high and banners flapping in the breeze. The roar of the crowd is overwhelming, a vibrant, pulsating force that envelops you.

The atmosphere reminds you of your own concerts—the energy, the collective excitement. But it has been a while since you’ve been a member of the crowd instead of the one performing. The memory brings a nostalgic smile to your lips. You hear the crowd chanting in unison, their voices melding together into a powerful wave of sound. “Hala Madrid! Hala Madrid!” The energy is palpable, a living, breathing entity that seems to resonate with every cheer and chant from the stands.

You look over to find Toby watching you with a grin, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“This is nothing,” he assures you over the roar of the crowd. “Wait till the game starts.”

Toby leads you to your seats, which are positioned near the halfway line, offering an excellent view of the field. You can feel the weight of the crowd’s curiosity pressing down on you as you settle in.

A flutter of nerves dances in your stomach as you notice the woman next to you widen her eyes. She quickly turns to her boyfriend, whispering something in his ear.

You adjust the jersey you are wearing. It was delivered to your house merely twenty-four hours ago, as you struggled to finish last-minute packing. It came with a note from Jude that read: Gotta look the part.

You instinctively reach up, adjusting the elastic of your ponytail. You remember leaning over the hotel sink, studying your handiwork. The high ponytail was strategic, making it impossible for anyone to miss Jude Bellingham’s name and number prominently displayed across your back.

You sit forward in your seat, your hands gripping the railing as you scan the warm-ups. Your brow furrows once you realize Jude is nowhere in sight. It is strange not to have seen him in person since your first public appearance. Busy with training, he had flown back to Spain while you attempted to work on your album. But the lack of inspiration meant you hadn’t made any progress. In the three weeks since your last meeting, most of your communication has been through text, with a few phone conversations as you worked out the logistics of your visit. His texts were a consistent flood of humor, cheekiness, and a few tidbits of personal information. He didn't seem to mind that your answers weren't nearly as interesting or long as his. He had expected it to take a bit for you to warm up to him. When you'd expressed the struggle with finding inspiration for your new song, he invited you out to Spain for the week.

“Don’t worry about the attention,” Toby says, sensing your discomfort. “Once the game starts, they’ll be too focused on Jude and the action to pay much attention to anything else.”

You nod, trying to take comfort in his words. You pull out your phone and snap a photo of the field as the players warm up. The view is breathtaking—the vibrant green of the pitch, the players stretching and preparing, the energy of the stadium. You carefully consider what to write before deciding to type “Hala Madrid!” and sharing it to your Instagram story.

You instantly close the app, knowing it will only take a few seconds for the post to confirm what the internet is already wondering. Clicking on your messages, you ignore the waiting message from Lara that reads: Remember to smile and cheer for your man!

Instead of responding, you click on Jude’s name. The last message he sent was a simple, No need to say thank you in response to your gratitude for ensuring Toby would be your guide.

You quickly type, Have a great game! before slipping your phone into your purse.

As the game begins, the referee’s whistle pierces through the air, and the match kicks off with a burst of energy that ripples through the stadium. The crowd's collective roar washes over you. Your heart races with a mix of excitement and trepidation, and you find yourself momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the experience.

As the first half unfolds, Toby leans over, pointing out a few things. “So, Jude’s playing midfield. His job is to control the game—set the pace, connect the defense and attack. Watch how he moves off the ball, too. That’s where he really shines.”

You nod, not entirely sure you understood everything, but appreciating Toby’s effort to make you feel more comfortable.

At first, you find it hard to focus. The crowd is so loud, so passionate, that it is hard to concentrate on anything else. You’d never seen anything like it—the way the fans were completely engrossed in every pass, every tackle, every near miss. But as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself getting swept up in the atmosphere, your eyes increasingly drawn to Jude.

He is everywhere on the pitch, commanding, graceful, yet powerful. The way he moves, the way he controls the ball, it is almost hypnotic. Toby was right—Jude was something special out there.

“See how he’s always looking around?” Toby points out as Jude receives the ball. “He knows where everyone is before he even touches the ball. That’s what makes him so good—he’s always thinking two steps ahead.”

You nod, your focus entirely on Jude. The noise of the crowd fades into the background as you watch him maneuver through opponents with a grace and precision that’s nothing short of extraordinary. The skill and artistry of his play make it clear why he is so adored by fans.

Suddenly, a collective gasp from the stands jolts you from your trance. Your eyes snap to the field just in time to see Jude being tackled hard. He hits the ground with a thud, and for a brief moment, he lies motionless. Panic grips your chest, a cold wave of fear crashing over you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, clutching the edge of your seat. The stadium seems to hold its breath with you as Jude sits up. Your heart pounds in your chest, your mind racing with worry.

Relief floods over you as Jude grins, pushing himself off the ground. The crowd erupts into cheers, and Jude gives them a reassuring wave. You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart still racing.

“Surely that’s a foul,” you glance over to find Toby grinning.

“That happens a lot,” Toby says with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “Jude’s used to not getting calls. He’ll be fine.”

You nod, your eyes following Jude as he moves back to position.

The game progresses, the tension building with each passing minute. As the half winds towards halftime, the tension in the stadium is palpable. Jude makes another run down the field, and you can’t help but feel a knot of anxiety in your stomach. Memories of his earlier tackle flash through your mind, making you hold your breath as you watch his every move. You grip the edge of your seat, your heart racing with anticipation.

Jude skillfully navigates past a defender, and you can barely contain your nerves as he lines up for a shot. The entire stadium seems to hold its breath in a collective gasp as the ball sails through the air. Time seems to slow down in that suspended moment, and your eyes follow the ball as it arches toward the goal.

Then, with a powerful strike, the ball whizzes past the outstretched arms of the goalkeeper and smashes into the back of the net. The stadium erupts in a cacophony of deafening cheers. The sound washes over you like a wave, a mix of joy, relief, and exhilaration. You find yourself on your feet, screaming and jumping up and down, completely swept up in the euphoria of the moment.

Toby pulls you into a hug, the thrill of the goal echoing in your cheers. The crowd's energy is infectious, Jude stumbling forward as his teammates crash into him in excitement.

As the crowd’s cheers intensify, Jude escapes the huddle and waves to the stands. Your heart skips a beat as you realize he’s jogging in your direction, his eyes locked on yours.

Without hesitation, Jude leans over the barrier and pulls you into a tight hug, his arms securing around your waist and drawing you close. You giggle, maintaining your balance as you feel the heat and sweat of his jersey against your skin. Jude’s embrace is warm and comforting, his grip tightening as his face buries into your neck, and the crowd’s cheers fade into the background.

As you pull back from Jude’s embrace, still breathless from the moment, you can’t help but exclaim, “That was amazing!” Your hands instinctively rest on his cheeks, feeling the warmth radiating from him. "You were--amazing!"

Jude’s smile broadens, a genuine, radiant expression that lights up his face. His eyes lock onto yours with a softness that surprises you. There’s no trace of the cheekiness you expect from him.

“I had to make your first match memorable,” he breathes.

“You did that.”

Jude’s eyes linger on your grin as if savoring the sight. He registers the way your smile lights up your entire face, making you look even more radiant. The warmth and joy in your expression seem to captivate him, making you appear more beautiful than ever. It’s a sight he, and the world, hasn’t seen from you in months, and the pride he feels at making you smile swells beneath his racing heart.

Your smile softens as his grip drifts to your hips. The warmth of his smile seems to draw you closer as if an invisible force is compelling you to bridge the gap. His eyes hold a gentle intensity, and for a heartbeat, it feels like the entire stadium fades away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared understanding and anticipation.

But the spell is broken as his name rings through the intercom system, forcing you to blink. The deafening roar of excitement from the crowd reminds you of the public nature of the moment. Jude’s gaze shifts briefly to the surrounding commotion, and with a playful grin, he pulls back, his smile still warm but tinged with a hint of mischief.

“So, how about a kiss? It’s definitely what they wanna see.”

"And let me guess, you're a man of the people?"

"So I've been told."

Your eyes roll. Lightly pressing against his shoulders, you arch your brow as his grip remains. Your eyes pass over Jude's shoulder to the players returning to their positions.

“Maybe if you get another goal.”

“Deal,” he winks, before pulling back with a smirk and jogging back onto the field.

You watch him go, your heart still racing from the unexpected intimacy of the moment. As you sink back into your seat, a hand resting on your chest to steady your breath, the realization of the stunt hits you with renewed clarity. It’s all part of the carefully orchestrated PR show. But as you look at Jude rejoining his teammates, a small part of you wonders if there’s something more beneath the surface. The match continues, and you find yourself caught between the excitement of the evening and the nagging reminder of the reality you’re playing in. But you can't help but wonder what will happen if he looks at you like that again during your week in Madrid.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x black reader #jude bellingham x black!reader #jude bellingham imagine

543 notes · View notes

tommydarlings · 9 months ago

Text

fucktoy part 3 | f1 grid

pairing: dom!carlos sainz ; dom!charles leclerc ; mean!dom!max verstappen ; dom!daniel ricciardo x sub!bimbo!reader

warnings: blowjob, mention of gagging, hair pulling, pussy eating, dacryphilia, brief mention of spanking, brief mention of face slapping, brief mention of marking somebody up, humiliation

w/c: 1k

summary: the f1 grid loves to simply use you as their fucktoy or as a stress relief and nothing else.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +65 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

How Carlos would not hesitate to force you onto your knees.

“f-fucking hell, cariño,” were the words you were able to here from your spot on your knees in front of the intimidating Spaniard as his big hand led your head, giving you close to no work. “Esa boca puede chupar pollas, mierda,” that mouth can suck cock, carlos threw his head back and groaned deeply.

You briefly tried your best to looked up at him with your with tears-filled Bambi eyes, batting your eyelashes as good as you could up at him before you gagged on his cock, making him chuckled and looked down at you,

“Too much? No… it’s not too much for that little mouth of yours, estoy en lo cierto?” Am I right?

With pleading eyes and hallowed cheeks, you shook your head and hummed, knowing that you won’t be able to get any words out.

He nodded confidently, “I know I’m right, my angel… I know,” Carlos whispered while his other hand caressed your hallowed cheek, smirk still very visible on his face.

Or how Charles wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to eat you out in his small changing room.

“Every time I eat that pretty pussy of yours it just tastes better and better, mon amour,” he mumbled before you spread your legs further apart and buried his head between your thighs again, messily licking and lightly sucking on your clit while you fisted his hair.

You threw your head back, as always, “Charles! Oh g-god, don’t stop… please!” You whined almost pathetically.

Your heard and felt him giggle into your soaked cunt, “wasn’t planning on stopping, my love.”

He suddenly put his entire mouth around your clit and passionately sucked on his before he flicked it a couple of times with the tip of his tongue, making you cover your mouth.

Charles noticed how your screamed into your palm and quickly raised his hand to remove your hand from your panting mouth,

“oh no, no baby, we don’t do that here… when you’re with me, then I want to hear how I make you feel, you understand? So let me hear you… all of you,” he whispered as he looked up at you from his place on his knees, fingers squeezing your skin as tears blurred your vision.

And then you shook with pleasure as moans and whines escaped your mouth like never before, Charles only smiling into your wet pussy as he continued devouring your most sensitive area with his mouth and tongue.

And how max wouldn’t let you talk to the other drivers in the paddock without leaving his mark on your behind.

He watched you closely, almost like a hunter its prey as you talked to Charles, giggling about something, making his blood boil.

The second Charles left you alone, max walked over to you, his dark gaze not leaving your body.

“What did the two of you talk about, hmm?”

You furrowed your brows but before you could even get a word out, he already grabbed your wrist and dragged you towards the nearest bathroom, harshly throwing you into it and locking the door behind him.

“You want something? Money? Attention? Some spanks or some slaps across your pretty face? You come to me… I can give you all of that and you know it,” he mumbled into your ear from behind, his big hands already lifting your dress up and pulling your panties to the side.

“M-Max, what are y-you-” but your sentence was stopped by your own loud and whiny moan, hand slapping against the wall he pressed you to before you squeezed your eyes shut.

His big hand cradled your chin from behind, thumb caressing your skin as he entered you, roughly fucking you in a fast and almost painful but still pleasurable pace.

He chuckled, his lips kissing your temple, “you feel that? You feel me inside of you? That’s the only thing that should be filling your tight cunt up, okay?” He whispered, making you nod.

“Good girl,” he kissed your cheek, comfortingly kissing your tears away, “and those beautiful tears, god baby… you know how to drive me crazy, don’t you?” He smiled.

Daniel would use you to fulfill his needs all the time, giving you close to no break.

After a good qualifying or a race win, you would be in his driver’s room already, pathetically bend over the arm of the couch while Daniel is grinning like a devil behind you, your clothes long gone.

“Don’t act like you didn’t beg for that all day long, saw you looking at me with those big, teary eyes, almost couldn’t resist myself to fuck that pretty hole in front of everybody,” he whispered into your ear from behind before moving his head down to kiss your shoulder and neck.

You whined, fingers gripping the soft material of the couch so roughly that your knuckles turned white, “N-Not true-” you gasped as his thrusts into your pussy got harsher, one hand pressing your body down by your waist while the other one got a merciless grip of your hair, swiftly pulling your head upwards.

You gasped while he chuckled, dark pupils starring down at you, “not true you say?” He bit his lip, thrusts getting slower but harder, making you choke on your breath each time,

“Not true she’s says,” he quickly pecked the top of your head while listening to your cries, smile not fading, “how funny.”

Your head fell forward but daniel didn’t like that, in a matter of seconds, he tangled his long fingers in your hair and pulled your head back up, his other hand pressing more down onto your waist, forcing you to arch your back for him even more,

“Oh no no no, baby… you stay here, okay? Right here,” you squeezed your eyes shut, tears covering your cheeks as your hands trembled with each thrust, “look at me… c'mon look up at me, baby,” he mumbled, smirking as you obeyed and opened your eyes again.

“Just like that,” daniel grinned down at you, praising you quietly before he kissed the top of your head again.

#fanfic #fanfiction #smut #carlos sainz smut #Carlos sainz #Charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x reader smut #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader smut #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader

1K notes · View notes

scoutofmymind · 1 month ago

Note

Saw that someone said Luigi’s Reddit had a post where he eluded to a pretty heavy drinking habit in college, which then makes me think about drunk ex!luigi. I’m sorry, but you write angst too well

Unlearn Me — { Luigi x Reader}

Content: SFW, angst, yearning, slight pining, mentions of canon back pain, ex’s reminiscing, heartbreak all over again.

Wc: 4,336 (holy shit)

Notes; Two semesters of carefully crafted distance crumbles at 3AM in the computer lab when your final project implodes hours before the deadline, leaving you with no choice but to seek help from the one person you've been avoiding since the breakup.

Before we continue, I cannot ignore that wildfires continue to ravage Los Angeles, countless families have lost their homes and livelihoods. I urge you to consider supporting those affected through any of these donation links, additionally, Roadogs on Instagram is looking for fosters for mass evacuations of shelter dogs in California.

Foster or donate if you can. xo.

Now, let’s go.

"Mother fucker," you curse, attacking your keyboard with increasingly desperate keystrokes.

Each combination might be the one to salvage this disaster, but deep down you know it's hopeless — your software has corrupted itself into oblivion, taking six months of work with it.

"You can ask for an extension," Emma suggests, her voice carrying the weight of exhaustion that matches your own. Your roommate had burst into the media center still wearing her pink silk pajamas, immediately launching into a nervous tirade about after-hours permissions and potential expulsion risks.

Her constant hovering and worrying grates on your last nerve, and you tell her to leave.

Predictably, she refuses.

"Listen, I'm not just gonna leave you here on your own." She leans across your workspace, her body pressing against your laptop screen until it tilts halfway closed. You freeze, fingers suspended above the keys, terrified of losing what little progress you've made in this digital archaeology expedition. "There's - like - a murderer on campus."

"One girl said she was followed home," you gently remind. Under normal circumstances, Emma's mother-hen routine would be endearing — charming, even. But right now, with your project in shambles and deadline looming, her protective hovering feels suffocating. "Not murdered, Em."

"May as well have been." Emma fixes you with that look — the one that screams why am I the only rational person here? While her nails tap nervously against your desk. "Probably hasn't left her room since. And you know what? Smart girl.”

You scrub your hands over your face, your eyes fixed on the projector's word vomit — an endless stream of error messages and unintelligible code painting the drywall from a tired projector like some twisted modern art piece.

Not exactly what you were going for.

Emma stands mesmerized, "How did you even do this?" She watches the cryptic display crawl across the wall, her eyes tracking each line as if she could decode it. "This reminds me of-" she catches herself, the name hanging unspoken between you. She's learned that lesson the hard way. "This is wild.”

You can't help but notice.

Notice how she almost speaks his name, how these meaningless strings of letters and numbers somehow bridge the gap to memories you've tried so hard to bury — promises whispered under star-sprinkled skies, fingers intertwined beneath the cosmic glow.

Moments that felt eternal then, ephemeral now.

Your gaze drifts to your phone, lying face-down like a surrender.

You blink several times, trying to clear the ghosts from your vision before speaking, your voice emerging barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves might shatter something in the air, "Should I text him?" You ask, offering the idea as if it was something too controversial to be spoken aloud.

Emma shifts her weight, both from exhaustion and the sudden weight of responsibility.

Your night's trajectory now rests in her hands — she who has witnessed every shade of you, from triumph to devastation. Her own memories of him surface: the way he'd raid her ice cream stash only to replace it with a premium pint the next day, how he'd tackle the dish mountain without prompting, those small gestures that made him feel like family.

"He was my favorite boyfriend of yours," she'd told you once, in a moment of wine-honest conversation. "He was a good boy."

A good boy who made a couple mistakes.

But those mistakes had compounded like interest on a debt you never agreed to pay, until the rift between you and Luigi widened into an ocean.

Everything good had been pulled out with the tide — your trust, your shared future — swept away to depths where no light could reach.

"I-" Emma's hand finds the back of her neck, her expression cycling through a slideshow of conflicted emotions. You can see her internal struggle; the desire to crawl into her bed warring with her loyalty to you. And she knows you well enough to realize you'd stay here until sunrise if necessary. "I mean — babe, I love you, but you can't fix this." The admission seems to pain her, as if acknowledging your limitations feels like betrayal. "We aren't techies."

You stare helplessly at your gutted gallery, stripped bare by your own accidental digital vandalism. Your artwork, your portfolio, your future — all reduced to incomprehensible strings of code projected onto an indifferent wall.

"Do you think he'd come?" The question escapes before you can stop it, your eyes magnetized to your phone as if your stare alone could resurrect that old text thread, buried beneath months of careful silence.

"Of course he would."

A soft, defeated whine escapes you as you turn back to glare at your corrupted work, as if you could intimidate it into fixing itself through sheer force of will.

Emma's voice softens, "Hey, he's mature enough to understand you've exhausted your options."

A violent shudder runs through you at the thought of Luigi being your last resort.

You'd managed to exile the visceral memories — the heated arguments that left you gasping for air, the promises that turned to vapor in the morning light.

"Which are?"

Emma looks down at her Pokemon-clad self, then back at you. "Me." She gestures vaguely in your direction, "and you."

The campus sleeps around you, everyone else lost to their dreams or late-night calls home. Just the two of you remain, trapped in this dimly-lit purgatory on a Wednesday night, while error messages mock your existence with their endless scroll.

"Slim pickin's," you mutter as your fingers betray you, finding Luigi's contact with muscle memory that refuses to die.

How many times had you pressed these same digits before?

But this is different.

Different because you haven't spoken since that night in your kitchen, when you stood with your back to him, voice steady despite the trembling in your hands, "So, we aren't going to try to figure this out?" You asked, and he’d responded with some pretentious comparison about your relationship being like corrupted code, fundamentally flawed, destined to fail its own quality test.

The irony isn't lost on you — the very metaphor he used to end things is now the thread that might pull you back into his orbit. Your only connection besides the elaborate dance of avoidance across campus, treating each other's paths like holy ground neither dares to tread.

Opening the thread, you're greeted by your last exchange — your final words to him blazing across the screen in angry blue bubbles: "I want my fucking shit back or I'll make your life a living hell." Such poetry. Your new message hovers in the text box, simpler, desperate in its brevity.

Hey need help with somethin. U up??

You thrust your phone at Emma like it's burning your fingers, watching her eyes widen as they catch on those months-old texts — digital artifacts of your rage that should have been scrubbed before tonight's desperate plea. "Jesus," she whispers, amusement dancing in her expression. "I'd still be licking my wounds if I were hi-"

The familiar buzz cuts through the air, a notification chime that once made your heart leap but now makes it sink.

"What'd he say?" You mumble, gaze fixed on the mocking projection that bathes the room in its sickly digital glow, code continuing its relentless march across the wall.

Emma settles into a chair, hunching over your laptop's makeshift altar. "Said he's at Ruddy's." She squints at a fresh message. "He said 'what do you want?'" She deepens her voice into a cartoonish baritone, making him sound like a caveman discovering text messaging for the first time.

You can't blame him for the cold response — you’d scorched that earth thoroughly.

But a selfish part of you wants to delete the whole exchange, pretend this moment of weakness never happened, go back to the careful choreography of avoiding each other's existence.

But you can't.

The corrupted gallery looming on the wall is a stark reminder that pride is a luxury you can't afford right now.

His icy reception is the natural consequence of your scorched-earth campaign, those venom-laced messages sent in the throes of heartbreak and confusion.

You'd played the role of the woman scorned perfectly, even though you'd written your own tragic script.

"Just send him a picture." You wave listlessly at the wall, where your work continues its digital decomposition, folding in on itself like a dying star. The error messages stretch into an endless serpent of nonsense, each iteration making less sense than the last.

The artificial shutter sound of Emma's photo breaks the silence, followed by the soft swoosh of sending. The wait feels eternal until-

Ding

Emma's attention snaps to your phone resting on her thigh, her eyes widening. "He's typing like he-"

Sorry;m,, I’m fucked uo

I am

fucked up

Emma clicks her tongue and rises, crossing the room to lob your phone into your lap, screen up. "Guess some things don't change." You manage a weak half-grin, memories flooding back unbidden — Luigi stumbling into your dorm in the small hours, wrapped in whiskeys warmth, all soft edges and desperate hands.

"Well, make up your mind." Emma's yawn threatens to unhinge her jaw, arms wrapping around herself like armor. "Are we done here, or are you gonna have him come take a look?"

I’n be there son

I’ll be rherw soo

I’ll be there soon

You stand to wrap your arms around Emma’s shoulders who reluctantly curves her arms upward to squeeze your shoulders. “Go home.” She seems reluctant to listen, staring at your phone screen as if it would take her home itself. “I promise, I’ll be just fine.”

The space between you pulses with that unique warmth reserved for someone who shares your roof, your darkest secrets, and the monthly struggle with Con Edison. "Just don't make any brash decisions."

"Oh, Em." You press a kiss to her forehead. "You think I'm so much cooler than I am."

Emma's laugh follows her as she spins toward the door, collecting pieces of herself like breadcrumbs — the scarf draped over a chair, the coat hung forgotten, the backpack abandoned when the day still held promise.

Each item a marker of how long this digital nightmare has stretched, from sunshine to moonlight.

And as if summoned by cosmic irony, the lab door swings open to reveal Luigi. "Oh - hey, E." The surprise flickers across his face before he schools his features back to neutral.

"Hey, Lu." Her greeting carries the easy familiarity of their old routine, like NPCs in a cozy game exchanging preset dialogue, their paths crossing exactly as programmed.

"You g'na help me with this?"

Emma shakes her head, patting his shoulder as she passes — a gentle handoff. "I did my time." You want to protest, but words fail as you absorb the sight of him, eight months of careful avoidance crumbling in an instant.

"Ahh-" Luigi waves, feigning disappointment through the druken haze. "Need a walk back home?"

Ever the shepherd, guardian of late-night wanderers.

It didn't matter who you were — friend, stranger, ex-lover’s best friend and roommate — his self-appointed mission to ensure everyone's safe return never wavered.

You'd once wondered if it stemmed from some deeper anxiety, his mind unable to rest until every sheep was accounted for in its fold.

Tonight though, the alcohol has mercifully dulled that protective instinct. Emma's potential disappearance into the night ranks lower on his list of concerns than usual, although Emma herself had been the one earlier to warn you of the murderer on campus.

"You still got my location," Emma reminds him — a callback to conversations past, to the day she'd granted Luigi permanent access to her whereabouts, a level of trust you'd wisely withheld.

"Right."

She presses a kiss to her fingers, flashing you a peace sign with the same hand before it briefly lands on Luigi's shoulder. Then she's gone, disappearing into the snow-globe world he'd just stumbled in from. He stands before you now, arms hanging like dead weight, his eyes somehow both wide and narrow.

"Hey," you whisper.

"Hey."

You gesture weakly at the wall where your work writhes in digital agony. "So, uh — remember that time you salvaged Professor Wren’s entire thesis when her drive crashed?"

Luigi's eyes follow your hand, professional interest temporarily overriding the awkwardness. He steps closer, squinting at the corrupted display, "Jesus," he mutters, "what did you do to it?"

"Would you believe me if I said nothing?" The laugh that escapes is more nervous than you'd like. "It just. - it started disintegrating during final checks."

He's already pulling out his laptop, muscle memory from countless late-night tech rescues. The familiarity of it hits you in the chest — how many times had you watched him do this same thing, hunched over his keyboard, bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration?

"I can try," he says finally, not quite meeting your eyes. "But no promises. When's this due?"

"Tomorrow at nine."

"Of course it is." He drops into the chair beside you, close enough that your elbows almost touch, but enough of a distance to still feel far away. “Okay, walk me through what it's supposed to look like when it's not — uh - whatever this is."

For a moment, Luigi stares at the corrupted display where red pixels bleed and stutter across the wall. His fingers hover over his keyboard, then pause. "Wait. This is your circulatory modeling project? The one you were-“ He cuts himself off, remembering this was before the eight months of silence.

"Yeah." You swallow. "It was working perfectly until an hour ago. Real-time hemodynamics, pressure differentials, vessel elasticity. Everything." Your voice cracks slightly on the last word, feeling more helpless when you verbalize it.

He nods, already typing with uncanny precision despite the slight sway in his posture. "Show me the base code. Did you save any backups?"

"Three. All corrupted." You lean forward, careful not to crowd him as you pull up the mangled files. "It's like something got into the core simulation and just - I dunno - started rewriting them."

"Hm." His eyes scan the screen with that laser focus he somehow maintains no matter how much he drinks, that familiar furrow appearing between his brows. "These values are cascading. One corrupted variable triggering a chain reaction through the whole system." He glances at you, slightly overshooting before correcting. "When's the last time it ran correctly?"

You check your phone. "6:43 PM. I have a screen recording from then."

"Good. That's good." He pulls up a second window, his typing still flawless even as he reaches with his free hand to steady himself against the desk. "We can compare the execution logs, maybe isolate where it started going wrong." His fingers fly across the keys with a precision that seems to mock his clearly inebriated state, and for a moment, it feels like those eight months never happened. "I'm going to need coffee for this." He looks up at you from where he sat, “Or more booze.”

You land on coffee, your feet carrying you down the familiar path to the kitchenette.

The fluorescent lights flicker dimly at this hour, casting strange shadows across the linoleum, the lab's overpriced espresso machine hums to life under your touch, its gentle whirring a counterpoint to the distant sound of Luigi's typing.

Suddenly you're back in that first year, both of you hunched over at 3 AM, him teaching you the proper way to pull a shot: “You're murdering it, stop torturing the beans”, your quiet laughter echoing through empty halls.

"Got it.” His voice carries down the corridor, slurred but triumphant, snapping you back to present.

You return to find him illuminated by screen-glow, his tie loosened and dark hair disheveled. The paper cup lands in front of him — double shot, one packet of raw sugar.

He doesn't stir it, never has.

Instead, he tips the cup back, and you hear that familiar crunch of sugar crystals between his teeth, a sound that used to drive you crazy, until somewhere along the way it became endearing.

Still, the jumbled code taunts you from the screen, though its chaos seems less threatening now. Under Luigi's touch — steady despite the alcohol — your final project is slowly remembering its original shape.

"You should have texted sooner," Luigi murmurs, tilting his head back to collect the last sugar crystals from his cup. The movement exposes his throat, his collar wrinkled where he's been tugging at it all night.

"Well," you say, watching the way his fingers dance across the keys, each stroke precise despite his obvious intoxication, "takes a minute to swallow something as big as my pride."

The corners of his mouth twitch upward, eyes never leaving the screen where broken code is knitting itself back together under his attention.

"Oh," he huffs out a laugh, the sound low and dangerous in the quiet lab, "I've seen you swallow far bigger things before."

It strikes like summer lightning — quick, bright, and leaving the air charged in its wake. The innuendo lands with no real bite, yet you find your jaw slack, a startled laugh shaking loose from your chest.

"Kidding," Luigi says, his eyes flicking from screen to you and back again. There’s a ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, softened by the alcohol but still sharp enough to cut. You wave him back to his work, grateful for the blue glow of monitors that hides your flush. "You kinda set that up perfectly, though."

He squints up at the projection where your broken code still bleeds across the wall, letting out a soft grunt of frustration at some digital roadblock. "Just mean — ya know, you could have caught me two beers deep instead of seven."

You shrug a shoulder, watching as the projection slowly crystallizes into something recognizable. "Seems you work better under such conditions."

The lie tastes metallic.

You both know the truth.

Luigi would have come if he was sober as sunrise or drowning in bourbon. Would have come with broken ribs or pneumonia or his heart barely beating. Would have traced these familiar hallways blind, deaf, or dying — because that's what the two of you do.

Have always done.

You've seen him at rock bottom, curled into himself on cold bathroom tiles at midnight, trembling hands pressed against his mouth as if he could physically hold back the pain that wracked his body. Watched him try to explain to puzzled doctors how someone so young could hurt so constantly, the frustration in his voice when they suggested it was all in his head.

You were there through the trials of medications, the nights when existence itself seemed too heavy to bear.

And you've seen him soar; standing tall in that charcoal suit that made him look older, more polished, shaking hands with tech giants who saw in him what you'd always known was there, his future spreading out before him like a golden road, brilliant and boundless.

Now he sits here, seven drinks deep but coding like he's never been clearer, and you realize that maybe both versions are equally true.

Maybe that's what makes him Luigi — the ability to contain multitudes, to be simultaneously broken and brilliant, wounded and wonderful.

He catches you watching him and raises an eyebrow, the gesture slightly delayed, which means you must have been a bit too obvious. "What?"

"Nothing.”

His fingers pause on the keys, and even through the alcoholic haze, his gaze pins you like a butterfly to cork. "No, really. What?" The words have a slight blur around their edges, but his focus is knife-sharp.

You could deflect again, but there's something about 4 AM and code that glows like dying stars that makes honesty feel less dangerous, perhaps you’re finding comfort in the fact that Luigi is drunk, although you’re stone cold sober.

"Just thinking about that time in the Thompson building bathroom." Your voice comes out softer than intended. "When you couldn't stand up, and I had to convince the janitor you had food poisoning."

He doesn't flinch from the memory like he used to.

Instead, his mouth curves into something caught between a smile and a grimace. "You told him it was from the cafeteria." His fingers resume their dance across the keyboard, but slower now. "Got the whole place investigated by health services."

"Yeah, but got us three days off while they checked fucking everything.” you remind him.

"Got me through that week," he corrects quietly, and for a moment, the mask of that brilliant-drunk-techie slips, showing the man underneath who still remembers what it feels like to be held together by nothing but someone else's faith in you.

Then he blinks, and the vulnerability is gone, replaced by that familiar crooked grin. "Though I maintain the cafeteria deserved the inspection anyway."

The projection flickers, another section of code healing itself under his touch, and you wonder if he knows you'd do it all again.

Every bathroom floor, every late-night crisis, every moment of putting him back together - you'd choose it every time.

"Speaking of which," you venture carefully, watching his hands move across the keyboard. "How's the new treatment working?"

His right shoulder shifts in what might be a shrug, but there's a shadow of a real smile playing at his mouth.

Not the sharp, defensive one he wears like armor, but something softer, more genuine. "Six months post-op and I actually slept through the night last week. First time in -“ he pauses, considering, "Fuck, I don't even remember how long."

The admission hangs in the air between you, weighted with the two years of 2 AM phone calls, of nights spent pacing, of pain medications that never quite touched the core of the problem.

Watching him try to code through hands that wouldn't stop shaking.

"Still hurts sometimes," he adds, almost absently. "But it's different now. More like background noise than a scream." His fingers still on the keyboard, and for a moment he looks almost surprised by his own words. "Guess that's what normal people feel like all the time, huh?"

The question carries an edge of wonder, like someone who's lived in darkness suddenly discovering dawn.

You watch him roll his shoulder — a gesture that used to be followed by a wince but now flows smooth and unconscious — and think about how strange it must be, learning to live without constant pain after it's become part of your identity.

"Though I kind of miss having an excuse to drunk-code at 4 AM" he adds, but you both know it's a lie.

The code blurs on the projection as silence settles between you, charged with something that's been building for ages — through bathroom floors and hospital visits, through triumphs and failures, through pain and healing.

The alcohol has stripped away Luigi’s careful boundaries, leaving raw honesty in their place.

"You know," Luigi says slowly, finally turning from the screen to face you fully, "I never thanked you properly. For all of it."

"You don't need to-"

Your diagram pulses back to life, the holographic heart rotating lazily against the wall.

Its red glow bathes the room in a surreal warmth, catching on the sharp angles of Luigi's face, softening them into something almost dreamlike.

The light flickers across his cheekbones, turns his eyes to amber, makes the whole moment feel suspended between reality and imagination.

"I do." His voice is quiet but firm, steadier than someone seven drinks deep should manage. "Because I've been thinking — now that I can actually think clearly without-“he gestures vaguely at his back, at all the years of pain, "I've been thinking about how you're the only constant. The only person who never-“ He trails off.

You lean a little closer, drawn by the vulnerability in his voice. "Never what?"

"Never saw me as broken." He turns himself toward you, and there's something desperate in his eyes, something the alcohol has finally given him the courage to show. "Never treated me like I needed fixing. Just stayed. Through everything."

Your lips part, but the words catch in your throat. He takes your silence as a sign, turning back to the screen with a sharp exhale that might be resignation or relief — you're not sure which would be worse.

"Lu,” you say softly, and something in your voice makes his fingers still on the keyboard. "Look at me."

He does, slowly, like he's afraid of what he might find.

The neon bathes half his face in crimson, leaving the other half in shadow, and you see the moment his carefully constructed walls start to crumble.

"Time hasn’t changed that much about me.” you say, each word deliberate, heavy with meaning.

His breath catches audibly. You watch the impact of your words ripple across his face — surprise, understanding, and something else, something that makes your heart race against your ribs.

"Hasn’t it?” Luigi is focusing on you now, the reason he really came here now practically completed but pushed aside until further notice. “Eight months is a long time to hold onto -“ he gestures vaguely between you, as if he can’t quite say what it was. Hopeless devotion, the right person, wrong time.

“Not long enough to forget.”

“Forget what?”

“You.”

His breath catches again, a sharp inhale that seems to pull all the oxygen from the room. When he speaks, his voice is rough and ragged, “Maybe that’s the problem.” His gaze drifts down to watch as you lick your lips, and back up again. “Maybe you should have.”

#req #luigi mangione fanfic #Luigi mangione x reader

154 notes · View notes

sierrale8ne · 4 months ago

Text

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER TWO

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @patscorner @wbbgetsmewetter @makethemhoesmad @authentic-girl03 @rosemariiaa

kalena speakss 🪽! wanted to give yall another chapter tonight since college is kicking my butt atm and idk when the next update will be. hopefully soon tho!

May 2025 — Los Angeles, California

“I just don’t see why you keep acting like our relationship doesn’t matter. I'm tired of acting like it doesn’t piss me off.” Julian spoke, disrupting the peace I had created for myself as I got dressed in the bathroom.

We were supposed to be getting ready for the Sparks home opener game against the Dallas Wings. I was exhausted from getting into LAX at an ungodly hour of the night, and now the conversation was giving me a headache.

“Ju, are we together?”

“Yes—”

“Did you ask me to be your girlfriend?” I turn around, slipping the mini gold hoops in my hand into my ears.

“No, but—”

I cut him off before he gets the chance to defend his position. “Then we’re not together.” I sigh. “I like where this is going, I really do, but we can’t keep having this conversation, Julian. I’m tired of it. This is just the way my career is working out right now.”

“So what? You make more money when the public thinks you’re single?” Julian asks. He’s very visibly frustrated, as he has been since before I even stepped off the stage in New York.

“No. I make more money when I keep the main thing the main thing. And right now the main thing is my music.” The words bounce off the wall for a moment, silence cutting through the air. I feel bad. He really is a great guy, and I hate to put him in a position like this, but it’s the way it has to be. “Ju’ come on. You have to understand where I’m coming from. I’m sorry.”

My hand reaches out for his shoulder, attempting to lessen the blow. Instead he steps back from me, shaking his head with a huff and leaving the bathroom.

“Have fun at the game, ‘Raye.” He speaks as he leaves, and it’s my turn to huff.

I turned around. Looking intently at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

This is the closest thing I’ve had to a relationship in years, and yet, I’m spending the majority of it fighting over something dumb. But is it really dumb, or am I being insensitive?

I really do like Julian. He’s funny and sweet, he never fails to go out of his way to support me; I mean he just caught a flight to see me on Jimmy Fallon. He buys me flowers, he cares about communication, and all the little things. But for some reason I Just can’t keep up with it.

It sucks.

—

May 2025 — Crypto.com Arena, Los Angeles, California

The atmosphere in the arena is booming, and oddly enough I find myself surprised at how many people have filled Crypto. I’m seated courtside, underneath the basket nearest to The Sparks bench. The game is halfway through the first quarter and at a timeout when I take my seat.

I have on a burgundy leather set from Fashion Nova. The shirt is a cropped button up that I only fastened at the bottom button and matching shorts. I’m wearing a pair of matching burgundy Prada slingback pumps that my recent success has gratefully allowed me to purchase.

I sent a last minute text to my sister, telling her that Julian bailed and I would love it if she joined me, hence the slight tardiness.

I’ve never seen Cassie as excited as she is right now. She’s beaming with energy, you would’ve thought she’s been planning this for months rather than being invited last minute. She’s for sure more of a basketball fan than I am, I credit that to my uncle. Whereas my dad made me more of a football fan.

“You’re gonna be getting infinite Christmas gifts this year for this, oh my God.” Cassie jokes with a kool aid smile on her face. I giggle, brushing her off.

“I’m glad you’re having fun, Cassie.” I giggle, brushing her off playfully. My phone dings, and I pull it up from my lap to check the notification.

Hey I feel like shit about earlier

Talk when you get home?

It’s Julian. Of course it’s Julian. I try to fight the urge to frown but I can’t help the way the disheartened expression forms in my face. I shut my phone off, shaking the feeling off and turning back to the game.

The buzzer sounds, alerting us that the game is starting again. It allows me to finally bring my attention back to the game. The Sparks are down seven, but you couldn’t even tell that the fans were bothered by it.

“Jumbotron.” My sister whispers to me and I notice the camera moving past ‘celebrity row’ and getting shots of everyone.

“Bro.” I groan. I don’t hate it, it just gets so awkward. The camera man stays out there for too long and then I forget what to do with my hands.

But regardless, the camera approaches me and my sister. I look up briefly at the Jumbotron before back down at the camera in front of me. A smile spreads to my face and I wave emphatically. Fortunately it doesn’t take very long and the camera man backs away a little.

Only briefly though, because within a matter of seconds he’s crashing to the ground and his large camera falls into Casandra’s lap.

During all the basketball games I’ve ever watched, I’ve always wondered how common the players run into the media crew or the stands. And every time I've sat in an arena, I’ve always said it would never be me. So you can imagine my surprise when a 6 '1 Paige Bueckers fell right on me after getting fouled going for a layup, knocking over the camera man in the process.

“Oh shit, man you good?” Paige asks him. Her hand helps steady him on his feet and Cassie hands him his camera back, mumbling hurriedly if he was alright. The man nods, patting her on the back.

My eyes meet hers, and suddenly I’ve never seen a prettier set of eyes. A shade of blue that was indescribable. Her hand reaches out to the both of us, palms outstretched as she asks, “Are you guys okay?” It comes out as a stutter and I barely notice it but it’s there.

I nod. And then I remember she still has free throws to shoot. “Yeah. All good, thanks.” I smile. Paige turns around, brushing her teammates off with thumbs ups and high fives when they ask if she’s alright.

I would be an idiot to say that I wasn’t a little star struck. Sure, I wasn’t completely up to date with all things basketball, but I knew more than enough to know just how much Paige Bueckers was loved in the basketball community. Hell, the city of LA basically through a parade when they got that #1 overall pick.

She was a superstar, in all possible definitions of the word. You couldn’t go more than five minutes without seeing her face on TikTok or some commercial.

And she was stunning; the last five seconds of me staring at her confirmed it in my mind even more.

—

“Thanks, Holly.” I beam with a smile. It only takes a few seconds of me walking away from postgame to hear yelling in my ear and Cam’s long arms around my shoulders.

In the least cocky way possible, I played an amazing game. Yes, the defense I faced tonight was different than when I was at Connecticut and efficiency wise I did struggle a bit. Who am I kidding— I played phenomenal.

26 points 9 rebounds and 7 assists, the pick-and-roll with Dearica racking up many of those. The team came out with a narrow win over the Wings, getting our season off on the right foot.

“That’s my fuckin’ rook!” I hear Azura Stevens hype me up. I dap her up cleanly, the smile on my face physically impossible to get rid of. For only being on the team for a month, they did a great job of welcoming me with open arms.

I could definitely get used to this.

A towel hangs around my neck, picking up all the sweat from the game. I’m walking towards the locker rooms with a few of my teammates when I get pulled back for some autographs. I don’t say no, honestly I can’t remember the last time I refused to sign an autograph. Or if I ever did.

There’s a young girl in front of me alongside her mom. She has on the UConn National Championship shirt from a month ago, her eyes wide as she pushes my sparks jersey up to me. I sign it with a smile, my heart swelling in size when she squeals and thanks me profusely.

“You’re welcome. Thanks for coming out!” I grin. My feet carry me through a few more fans. I sign all sorts of memorabilia from hoodies, to jerseys, phone cases, and shoes. As well as a wild number of selfies before I hear my name.

“Paige, come here!” It’s Rickea, as her voice has become widely recognizable in the last month that I’ve been here. “Oh my God, walk slower!”

I roll my eyes as I pick up my pace. She’s standing courtside with her warmups on. “Finally. I wanted you to meet a friend of mine. Maraye, this is Paige.”

When I look over it’s the girl from the TV last night, standing there with her purse in hand and— oh my God I ran into her like an hour ago. I fell into her lap. Oh my God this is embarrassing.

She looks even more gorgeous than when I was drooling over her last night. Her hair is the same, from what I can remember, but her outfit is completely different. The color she has on is similar to the one from last night, but the set shows off so much more skin. Her legs are toned, the top she wears is unbuttoned just enough to give me a show of the lace black bralette under it, and her gold septum shines in the arena light.

“Hey.” I greeted her and the girl who sat next to her earlier in the night. “I do apologize about earlier by the way.”

“Don’t worry about it. It happens.” She reassures me.

“P, Cam, and I were watching the show last night. You did great, Raye.” Rickea pushes at Maraye’s shoulder. My eyes catch how she blushes in response.

“You on a world tour or something? New York last night, and LA tonight.” I joke, and she laughs. Her laugh is possibly more angelic than her singing, and the way her accent popped out when she spoke might even have an edge on that.

“Nah. I just couldn’t miss opening night. Kea’ would never let me live it down, plus my sister is like a huge hoops fan.” She explains, gesturing to the two women next to us.

I’m towering over her as I look at her but she still keeps eye contact with me. My eyes never leave hers, I didn’t even want them to.

“I was just telling her about Cam and Ben’s dinner party on friday.” Rickea starts. She turns to face me, but I’m still stuck on Maraye and her— well her everything. Rickea swats my arm as slyly as she can to get my attention. My eyes rip away from the musician with an incredulous force. “You are going to that, right?”

“I, uh, I’m not sure. I gotta check on when Drew and my dad are coming to town.”

“Maybe I’ll see you there then?” Maraye speaks.

Someone please help me figure out why her eyes are so mesmerizing. They’re big and a perfect shade of brown. The slight tilt of her head when she asks me nearly drives me crazy.

“Yeah maybe.” I nod before looking at Rickea. I don’t know how long we’ve stood here, but what I do know is that coach will hand our asses to us on a silver platter if we’re late to the first media session of the season. “Yo, we gotta…” My head tilts towards the tunnel.

“Oh shit you’re right. It was so good to see you guys!” She jumps, pulling Maraye and her sister into a group hug. “Tell y’all folks I say hi!”

The four of us exchange waves and we walk off the court. By the time we make it to the tunnel Rickea is letting out a loud cackle and pushing me away from her. “You’re not even trying to hide it!” She laughs. I know exactly what she’s talking about but I act clueless, it’s too early for my teammates to be ridiculing me over my choices in women.

“You are sooooo going to that dinner party.”

A smirk spreads on my face and I roll my eyes. For the first time all month, I can’t even disagree. Nothing is stopping me from going to that dinner party.

#sierrale8ne #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #uconn wbb #la sparks #lesbian #my fic #40 days and 40 nights

196 notes · View notes

maneskinwh0re · 5 months ago

Text

“one more word.” ~ butch!wolverine x ladypool!reader this is just a wlw honda odyssey scene bc i need butch wolverine to be real. i also aimed to write them in character! give feedback babes plsssss

cw: outdated cultural references, fourth wall breaking, nsfw, blood, f!ngering, strap!sex, idk just lotta gay shit xx

wc: 4.3k...👁️👁️

"get. in the fucking. car."

"it'll get you there safe and sound!" nicepool reassures with a loving pat to the top of the grey honda odyssey. "lil betsy always does." his eyes then fall to dogpool, who is held tightly in your arms. "you're gonna have to give me my dog back, though..."

"i know," you reply matter-of-factly. "listen-" you start before mary puppins places a paw on your hand. "yes, child... if you ever want to give her up or if she needs a new home, or if something should happen to you, i'd love to be her mama."

nicepool only wheezes at your remark. "what would ever happen to me?"

"lots of stuff," you reply with a shrug, smiling innocently under your red mask.

as soon as he realizes your seriousness, his smile fades and looks to the older woman standing to his right in an ask for help. the wolverine lets out a huff as she pushes herself off the honda and moves to grab the dog from your grasp.

"n-no! we're running away- agh- the corn was too dense, girl!" you say in apologies to mary puppins and watch sadly as laura hands the you-variant over to the other, nicer-you-variant.

you begrudgingly get in the passenger seat of the shitty car, waving goodbye to dogpool. the obnoxious sound of you singing "we'll meet again" is muffled by the car windows as laura drives you both away.

time passes. maybe 15 minutes, maybe an hour. doesn't matter, reader— don't worry about it. you haven’t been paying attention to the time because you’ve been sneaking quick gazes at the wolverine in the driver’s seat to your left. the way her brown hair curls up on either sides of her head looks so cute. yet the way her large, gloved hands grip the steering wheel causes your mind to wander other places. all you know now is there’s been a lingering thought poking at your brain since you picked this wolverine up from that bar in her universe.

"okay i'm just gonna ask. what's with the suit? first thing i did when i flamed out: i took mine off."

"drop it." laura mutters.

"it's not that ugly..."

"stop talkin about my suit."

"did you make it yourself? been there!"

"quit. now." the tension in her voice is rising.

"the x-men make you wear it? those sons of fuckin bitches. they are not your friends, i'll tell ya that. friends don't let friends leave the house looking like they fight crime for the los angeles rams-"

"shut the fuck up about the suit," she snaps.

"woahwoahwoah watch your frown lines, angel baby." you back off, lifting your hands in a motion of surrender. "i'm just trying to bond a little bit-"

"yeah? well then talk about something else."

"fine!"

there's an uncomfortable silence between you two, only for a moment before you play around, making spiderman web motions with your gloved hands. you just can’t help but annoy the woman next to you, it’s too much fun. it’s like your duty as passenger princess.

"stop it," she snaps again soon enough.

"why? don't wanna get distracted seeing my fingers in this motion?" you tease, moving your middle and ring finger back and forth. laura only scoffs at the sexual innuendo. "ahh, the natural hand position of the sapphics." you turn to look out the car window and make eye contact with the reader. "is that why so many masc lesbians are obsessed with spiderman? i guess only earth-616 knows the correlation..."

and wait- if i'm supposedly you, the reader, but as ladypool-- then how am i breaking the fourth wall? gasp! a fourth wall break inside a fourth wall break... that's like- sixteen walls... am i talking to myself? or talking to myself? whatever. anyway i know why you're here, you slut. let's make conversation by pushing wolvie's buttons some more, yeah?

"if they could fix your world, what's the first thing you're gonna do when you get outta here? some rubbing alcohol shots? maybe a wiper fluid chaser?"

laura's gaze slowly turns to you. "what did you say?"

"i said when you get back, what's the first thing you're gonna do-"

"no no, before that."

"if-" you catch yourself. shit. "-they can fix your world?"

with an aggressive slam on the break, your seatbelt doesn't even have time to prevent your head from colliding with the dashboard. and as the car stops, you know there's nothing that can save you from the rage behind wolverine's tone.

"what do you mean if?" she asks through gritted teeth, body fully turned to face you.

"i mean-"

"you lied to me. you don't have a fucking clue if they could help me fix things. do you?"

"no, but i mean-" you start to defend yourself before three metal claws impale your thigh, and probably extend under you all the way through to your seat. "agh- fuck! fuck! i didn't lie!"

"you lied!"

"no! i made an educated wish!"

laura only tilts her head at your defense, eyebrows furrowing.

"because i need you," you continue as you unfold the photo that was in your pocket and hold it up for her to see. "this is why. right here. cause if we don't do something, they die. i don't know anything about saving worlds, and why would i even care? cause my entire world is right here in this picture. it's only nine people, and i have no idea how to save it alone. i know how to fuck people up for money but you- YOU know how to save them... at least the other wolverine did-" at that last comment, laura twists her claws in your thigh, striking enough pain for more curses to escape your mouth. "f-fuck! ah- i guess i'm stuck with the worst one-"

"did you just say you made an educated... fucking wish?"

"they call me the merc with the mouth. they don't call me truthful timmy the blowjob queen of sass catoo-"

the three metal blades are quickly removed from your thigh only to be brought up next to your face. laura's shaky breath exercises seem to be the only thing keeping her from slicing you apart.

"one more word... please, give me one." her guttural voice is a low warning. you wait a moment as if thinking to a random word generator in your brain.

"~gubernatorial~" you say simply before cowaring behind flailing arms when laura prepares to stab you in the face, only fake you out. her breaths are deeper, more steady as if she's trying to calm herself.

"you know what? you're a fucking joke... no wonder the avengers didn't take you, or the x-men or fuckin anyone. i mean you are a ridiculous, immature, half-wit moron. i have never met a sadder, more attention-starved, jabbering, little prick in my entire life. and that says a lot 'cause i've been alive for over two hundred fucking years." the volume in her voice begins to rise with each word, striking your emotions further and further as you sit there speechless, yet her anger keeps rising. "and i'll tell ya- that villain chick was right about one thing: you will NEVER save the world. you couldn't even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper! and motherfucker i wish i could say you'd die alone, but it's one of GOD'S best jokes that you can't die! except that's all on all of US!"

she hits nerve after nerve. the pain in your chest hurts too fucking bad. you are not only speechless, you never want to speak again. you have millions of words to say yet none at all.

how fucking dare she bring up vanessa like that? who does laura think she is? no fucking hero, that's for goddamn sure.

"you got nothing to say, mouth?" she asks, almost out of breath from yelling accusations.

all you can manage to say is one sentence. and she doesn’t even fucking deserve the warning too. "i'm gonna fight you now."

wolverine only snorts, a pitiful laugh towards your remark. "oh, are you?"

you take note how a quick punch to her nose shuts her right up, and watch in satisfaction how blood trickles out her nostril down to her upper lip. your small victory is cut short by her fist colliding to the same spot on your own nose. she pushes you to the window and grabs the back of your mask, then slams your face down onto the center head unit multiple times. different radio stations flick back and forth as you make contact with the buttons and nozzles, eventually landing on a song from the original 'grease' soundtrack.

♡ last gore x nsfw warning !! :3 ♡

you lift your hand to grab one of your swords but another punch to the cheek causes your vision to cloud. by the time you come to your senses, laura has buckled your seatbelt and is digging her left claw into your stomach, twisting her hand slowly.

“not talkin’ now, are ya?” she growls before withdrawing her claws and moving to stab you again. pulling the lever on the side of your car seat, you fall backwards to quickly dodge her blow. you kick your foot against her shoulder to keep her back, and then tightly wrap your legs around her head. another three blades enter your side in a sudden motion, causing you to release your chokehold.

“agh! you dirty bitch!” you shout before kicking her out the front windshield of the honda. you laugh and point as she rolls and tumbles through the leaves and dirt. as soon as she gets up, you unsheathe your swords while she sprints back to you. she’s a fucking animal—ramming herself into the front of the car, causing the airbag to go off on your stomach and send you flying back into the reclined seat.

laura jumps through the broken windshield and lands claws first on top of your already bloodied body. slash after slash, you both further each others’ injuries until you flip laura over and pin her down to the seat. there is surprise in her eyes with a hint of something else that you can’t quite pinpoint. trying to catch your breath, she only looks up at you with a ratted smile, as if amused to see you attempting to kill her. blood stains her face and fanged teeth, and her short hair is tangled and damp with sweat. fuck—it’s a sight. with your elbow against her chest, you’re still close enough to smell her alcohol-tainted breath.

“need a mint, you preening slut?” you ask before you are flying through the sunroof of the honda and falling to the ground outside the car. after kicking yourself up, your little wolvie gestures for you to come back with a simple hand wave behind the window. who are you to keep her waiting? throwing the swords over your shoulders, you take out your baby knives before running back to the car and jumping through the window.

broken glass and blood is everywhere, but neither of you care. you’re both having too much fun trying to murder the other as you take turns regenerating. it’s a pointless waste of time and energy. a total meaningless circle of fighting and healing.

you pin laura through the broken windshield and onto the front hood of the car, stabbing her shoulder and arms repeatedly with a knife. the sleeves of her suit eventually fall apart, fabric scattering and leaving her muscular arms to your gaze. so clearly you’re distracted. she grabs your wrist behind her and heaves your arm over her head to hold you in her place for a moment to catch her breath.

she then drags you by the belt from across the car and holds you down with her body in the back seat. her claws sink through the red fabric and into your sides. again. and again. the repetitive motions of the sharp metal soon causes a big tear in the fabric of your suit, exposing the skin under your breast. it seems as if neither of you notice at first, continuously fighting until another stretch from her pinning your arms above your head causes a terrible ripping sound. you both stop and look down, unsure on who has the decency to yield the fight first.

wolverine pauses for a moment, hovering over your bare tit before suddenly attacking your nipple with her mouth. there is nothing gentle about it, and you can’t tell if her actions are still a way of fighting with the harsh ways her sharp teeth nip and bite.

you lay there for a moment in shock, chest heaving up and down in short spurts as you try to breathe. your hands drop the knives to the car floor behind you, yet your wrists are still trapped in the wolverine’s grip. before you can think to stop it, a breathy whimper escapes your lips. the sound pricks laura to come to her senses and looks up at you with a flushed expression.

fucking hell. if you weren’t okay with what’s happening, you would’ve said something by now. even laura knows that—considering how fucking chatty you are.

“were ya hungry, peanut? needed a mid-fight snack?” you tease, tilting your head with a raised brow.

“i didn’t say i was finished.” she smirks before lowering her head to your chest again. her tongue circles and flicks at your nipple, treating it oh so lovingly before biting and pulling at it so fucking roughly. you chew on your bottom lip to muffle your own moans—all because you’re too stubborn to let her know how fucking good it feels.

she’s holding herself back, yet you kick her chest and propel her weight backwards onto the head unit, while the momentum pushes you the opposite direction into the third row of seats. as she falls, the grease song playing from the radio is muted, leaving you two to a short-lived silence.

"i was wrong—the honda odyssey fucks hard,” you say, rolling your head back and cracking your neck in the process. looking back to laura, you usher her to you with a teasing two-finger motion. “too bad you don't, needle dick.”

“oh, we’re just getting started, bub,” she replies, eyeing your manspread position before lunging to you again.

calling her an animal is to say the fucking least. but you’re no better. she rips and tears your suit, not giving a single fuck in the world that you may need to keep it in tact for later in the plot line. she pulls the tough fabric apart, exposing your tits to her lingering eyes. it’s like a switch is flipped. all of a sudden she can’t get enough, wanting- needing to see more of you. for a moment, you just let her. your belt is removed followed by your pants all while you just lay back and watch her do the work. soon you’re only in your black underwear, smirking under your red and black mask at how fucking needy she looks. her callused hands grip your waist, easily pulling you up to her as her mouth finds your other nipple.

“you’re not you when your hungry. and clearly, you always seem incredibly hungry, wolvie.”

“shuh du phvck uh.” is what you make of her boob-drunk gibberish and assume she’s simply cussing you out.

“huh? couldn’t quite catch that. y’ know you really shouldn’t talk with your mouth full-”

a large, gloved hand muffles your masked mouth before her lips release your tit with a pop.

“off,” she says. you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and she must be able to tell by your silence, causing her to elaborate quickly while her free hand lingers on the black lace of your underwear. “i don’t want a damn word out of your filthy mouth until you’ve taken these off. if you want me to fuck you, you’re gonna have to let me.”

fucking hell. panties are soaking wet right now.

you slowly nod your head in her restrictive grip, and lift your hips to remove the damp fabric from your body. damp from blood or sweat or something else… who fucking knows and who fucking cares. you toss them to the side and immediately pull laura closer to you. her harsh kisses mark your neck and collarbone before she wets her middle finger with her tongue and starts to rub quick circles on your clit. you almost push her away, her starting speed too overstimulating at first, but you soon get used to it, bucking your hips in a physical ask to move faster.

“keep still, sweetheart. that’s it,” fuck even her praise is still low and demanding somehow. you wrap your hands around her hairy forearm, hissing curses as you feel yourself grow closer and closer to the edge.

“fuck- you know, i bet you’re a pretty good dj in some other univers- oh my god!” your silly quip is cut short by her pushing one finger into you. then another. and before you know it, you’re a blubbering mess as you soak her hand as well as the car seat beneath you. her mouth is against your masked ear, shushing your witticism. white rings of cum coat up to her knuckles while her thumb resumes a quick pace on your clit.

banter is over as quiet whimpers replace your usual chatterbox routine. her large fingers feel so much better than your own, and then that’s where she leaves you—fingers curling inside your cunt causing your brain to see stars. your orgasm hits you hard, but not as hard as she does—a rough slap to your face intensifies every sensation, leaving you pained like putty in her grasp as you come down from your high. “don’t got much to say now, huh?”

your eyes focus on her hair and how it twirls up on both sides—the classic hairstyle for any and all wolverine’s across the multiverse. “why do~you style~your hair like that?” your voice slurs with dizzy haze, and laura only looks down at your drunken state quizzically. “were ya going f’ wolf? ‘cause it makes ya look more like a cat. like my little meow meow~”

a growl creeps from the back of her throat before three claws find a home—digging into the flesh on your shoulder.

“shit! you angry ‘bout it, mama?” you ask teasingly before watching her slowly remove her belt. “no- not the belt! i won’t be a naughty girl, i swear!”

“don’t be dramatic,” she scoffs as she tosses the belt aside and straddles you again.

“that’s kinda my job. hashtag drama queen. hashtag full-time. ‘round the clock. just like how your full time job is hiding a fully comic accurate superhero suit under your clothes for when its use comes once every twenty fucking years.”

that switched something in her. she yanks your mask off your head and glares down into your eyes. then a smirk sneaks its way onto her lips. fuck. what does she know that you don’t?

“you think this suit is the only thing i keep under my clothes?” your jaw tenses when laura unzips her pants and allows her strap to spring out to your view. it has to be at least eight to nine inches, the color matches her skin tone and the base of it connects to the black harness buckled around her boxers.

“marvel jesus h. christ! where did you even get that thing? the prop table from the set of alien?!"

you half-expect an answer, but she only lifts your mask and forces a mouthful of the red fabric down your throat, leaving your fear-factored size question hanging in the air. “there… silence is nice. isn’t it?” you’ve lost your voice, but you don’t protest. your frustrated whimpers are muffled and shaky breaths escape through your nose as laura traces her dick up and down your wetted lips. “just relax, beautiful,” she whispers as she slips the tip into you. the tone of her voice is teasing, clearly loving how much power she so easily has over you. pushing in deeper, her pace stays agonizingly slow, as if she’s having to think about controlling every thrust. your eyes follow the grinding movements of her hips and your legs instinctively wrap around her waist. as laura starts to speed up, your backside rubs against the car seat. trying to find a sense of stability, your hands scatter up the butch’s clothed torso and eventually grip her broad shoulders. you can’t help but buck your hips again, no longer ashamed of how fucking needy you look doing so. one of her hands claw at the shoulder of the seat behind you while the other has a strong hold on your hip, guiding your body with hers. guiding soon turns to holding and holding soon turns to pinning. not only is she now chasing her high, but she will do whatever she needs to get to it.

“agh~ fuck. is this what you wanted? to be wrapped around me like this? you’re so pathetic, it’s adorable.”

when all you can do is moan in reply, laura knows she’s fucked you stupid, but still long ways away from being done with you. she suddenly stops altogether and pulls out of you, chuckling quietly when you groan due to your pleasure being delayed. she turns you over and props you up on your knees, then holds you down by the back of the neck with one hand and finds a firm grip on your ass with the other. her relentless thrusts continue, causing a repetitive sound of her hips slamming into the backs of your thighs. every time she pulls back, you follow her dick—leaning to her to chase that friction.

she hits nerve after nerve. the pain hurts too fucking good. your words are still muffled against your ladypool mask, the fabric now damp with saliva and drool. maybe tears as well.

“speak up, princess. ‘s hard to hear you,” laura instructs as she removes the piece from your mouth.

“i… i’m… gonna-” you start before trailing off, finding it hard to focus on words as laura speeds up her pace.

“what, pretty thing? y’ gonna cum?”

“tha-that’s what she said!” of course. of-fucking-course those are the words you can get to leave your stuttering mouth.

“god—do you ever shut the fuck up?” laura groans before tossing your mask to the side and holding your hips steady. when she notices your silence, she leans forward, a hand massaging your tit and her teeth taking a harsh bite at your earlobe. “or maybe you just need to be fucked speechless, don’t you?”

yes. a million times yes.

quiet whimpers leave your lips, the smell of cigars and alcohol mixed with the stench of blood and sex is almost overwhelming. laura slows her pace again, taking her sweet time watching, playing, torturing you for pleasure. that sadistic fuck.

“i do love these cute little noises you’re making, yeh? tell me how good it feels. i know it feels good but i wanna hear you say it—come on. spit it out,” she says into your ear. her lips have gone dry from breathing heavily and sweat trickles down her forehead and nose. the torn fabric of her yellow and navy blue suit rug-burns against your skin from all the excessive movement, but you don’t care. laura pulls your arms behind your back before yanking a seat belt out of its buckles to wrap tightly around your wrists. the rough material hurts, but it’s a good-hurt. when you only let out a porn-styled moan (half-exaggerating to poke fun at her), the wolverine behind you reaches under your neck and grabs your jaw. “you’ not gonna use that mouth?”

“fuck- okay! yes, it feels good. you feel so fucking good. just- please, let me- let me cum!”

and your begs get so easily rewarded. laura must have a soft spot for you because her thrusts speed up again, and this time hit hard with no intention of stopping.

what has little wolvie turned you into, hm? you, ladypool, a beggar? breaking out of character many would argue, but maybe that’s her goal: finding what breaks you.

“not yet. shit- wait ‘til i say.”

the hilt of her strap hits her clit just right as she continues to drive herself into your pretty cunt. as minutes pass and breaths quicken, her metal claws unsheathe and dig themselves into the seat beneath you two. she’s close.

with clamped hands still tied behind your back, you sense that knot in your stomach growing. guttural sounds from the back of the throat slip from laura’s lips, filling your ears as she hits your g-spot again and again, pushing you so quickly towards your release for the second time.

“right there! plea- please, please! i’m… gonna-”

“go on, sweetheart. fucking cum~”

at her words, her command—you feel yourself tighten around her. and your moans must’ve been what did it for her because immediately after—husky groans are heard from behind your bare, trembling body. the heavy weight of a wolverine falls against you, breathing hard onto your skin as her sweat-coated face buries itself into the nape of your neck. a trail of little bite marks, enhanced by her small fangs, are left scattered across your shoulders and upper back.

her middle finger finds your clit again to draw little circles, bringing out pitiful whimpers and post-sex muscle spasms from your worn out body.

“ca- canada…”

your contorted face and senselessness brings her to hum—which is her version of a laugh in this dizzy state. she broke you. and it didn’t take very much, did it?

she turns your chin to look up at her, her face reflecting that drunken haze with the ghost of a smile across her lips. her focus falls to your parted mouth for a moment before finally connecting her lips with yours. the kiss is softer than you expect, as if her hunger’s satisfied, yet the warm taste of cigars and alcohol linger.

“y’ did good, sweetheart.”

just good? must she always be so condescending?

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

spent way too long on this lol comment/repost if you like it, loves !!

this is so gonna flop but idc i wrote it for me and bookie 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

taglist: @pr1ncessjo <3

#poolverine #deadpool and wolverine #ladypool #butch wolverine #butch wolverine x ladypool #butch lesbian #wlw smut #wlw ns/fw #lesbian #dykeposting #i just wanted an excuse to write a wlw honda odyssey scene #bee #maneskinwh0re #Spotify

230 notes · View notes

oneshotnewbie · 4 months ago

Note

Hello! I was wondering if you're taking requests, specifically for Athena Grant? If so, please could you write something about:

Reader and Athena are together (engaged) and the reader gets injured (either accidently/someone intentionally hurt) and they've had to remove all the jewelry before surgery, so when the reader wakes up, she's panicking about how she's lost her engagement ring (half still under anesthesia and half boasting to the nurses) until Athena gets there and puts the ring back on her finger again? Like re-proposing in front of the team?

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of a serious accident, blood, conversations about possible death and the plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

You leaned against the rolling doors of the fire station as the sun slowly sank behind the skyscrapers of Los Angeles. Daily life at the station was chaotic, as always - the hum of voices and the heavy clatter of equipment filled the air. The icy cold air left an uncomfortable tingling sensation on your skin, a coldness that you couldn't shake off despite the fleece jacket over your shoulders.

Since your engagement to Athena, you had become strangely calmer, your once impetuous nature had changed. But this uneasy silence that this evening brought with it made you nervous. Your finger unconsciously stroked the shiny ring on your hand - a symbol of love, the promise of a shared future that you had given each other.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Hen asked, putting a hand on your shoulder while she cast a worried look at you. "Are you unsure about... the engagement?"

"Oh my God, no Hen. I could never be unsure about Athena. It just feels so... unreal," you replied with a gentle smile as you looked at her while pushing yourself away from the wall. "It is a.. magical feeling and I'm so incredibly happy."

Hen smiled broadly at you and before she could answer you, a shrill alarm sounded, echoing through the walls of the building. The adrenaline immediately shot through your body, your muscles tensed, and the moment of calm was over. It was time for action.

"A serious accident on a construction site in the west of downtown! Several injured, unclear situation, possible danger of collapse!" the announcement echoed over the loudspeakers.

Hen and you exchanged a brief, wordless glance - the mixture of concern and determination in your eyes was unmistakable. You walked quickly together towards the ambulance while the rest of the team jumped into the fire trucks. The engines roared as you left the station in a moment when the air seemed to stand still before the chaos began.

The streets of Los Angeles were packed, but the car's sirens cut through the traffic like a knife. You felt the familiar thrill of adrenaline rising inside you. But today it felt different. Every sound seemed sharper, the movements around you faster - as if the world around you was vibrating with tension. You tried to focus your thoughts, but your eyes kept wandering to the shiny ring on your finger. You couldn't shake the wonderful thought that you would soon be a Grant.

When you finally arrived at the construction site, the extent of the disaster was immediately apparent. A gigantic construction site, filled with half-built buildings, cranes towering into the sky, and workers everywhere, panicking and trying to make their way out of the rubble. The scene was a nightmare: steel beams had collapsed, concrete slabs had been shattered, machinery was blocking access roads, and dust hung thick in the air, as if the entire construction site had been shaken by a major earthquake.

Hen and Chimney jumped out of the car and immediately ran to the injured, while you turned your gaze to the half-collapsed part of the construction site, where the cause of the chaos seemed to be. Sparks flew from a stationary smaller crane that was leaning dangerously to the side and threatened to fall onto the scaffolding below.

You immediately ran, your mind on autopilot. It was clear that this situation was life-threatening but this was your job and you would stop at nothing. The crane had to be stabilized before more people were injured. A team of construction workers tried desperately to secure the heavy equipment with steel cables, but it was obvious that their efforts would not be enough. Sweat ran down their foreheads as they frantically shouted orders to the rest of your team, but time was running out.

"Damn, if that thing falls, it'll kill even more people," you cursed inwardly as you ran and grabbed one of the heavy steel cables, trying to help the workers stabilize the machine before Bobby and the others found a solution.

But the situation quickly escalated. A worker, obviously inexperienced and panicked, began to frantically pull on one of the control levers, ignoring the dangerous weight of the wooden beams moving above him. But before Bobby, Eddie or anyone else could intervene, there was a loud crack that made your blood run cold. You looked up - a massive wooden beam finally came loose and fell towards you without stopping.

Everything happened in a split second. The beam crashed down with a deafening roar and hit you with full force. You felt a sharp, piercing pain as the wood hit your body, as if your entire ribcage was being crushed. Your breath was ripped from your lungs, and you could feel the burning pain flooding your body. The sound of bones breaking echoed in your ears, accompanied by the dull thud as your body hit the ground with full force.

You wanted to scream, but no sound came. You lay under the heavy weight, unable to move, and could feel your consciousness slowly fading. Your head spun, and the pounding of your own heartbeat became duller as the blood from the wound in the side of your torso dripped onto the ground at an alarming rate. Your vision blurred, and the sounds around you became quieter. You knew you were losing control.

The world around you began to blur, but the last thing you consciously perceived was a terrified scream from Hen.

She saw it happen as if time itself was slowing down. The massive beam fell as if in slow motion, and even though Hen knew there was nothing she could do, she felt an indescribable feeling of powerlessness. She had promised her best friend, Athena, that she would look after you during missions. "Y/n! No!" she screamed as she ran across the rubble. Her voice was rough and broken, the shock almost paralyzing her.

Chimney, who had also witnessed the accident, was already at her side, grabbing his emergency backpack with shaking fingers. The sight of you lying motionless under the beam made his heart race. You weren't just a colleague, you were family. The unit was a family, and when one of them fell, everyone felt it.

Hen knelt down next to your head and felt desperately for a pulse. The blood loss was frightening, her fingers immediately soaked by the warm, sticky blood that was constantly seeping from the wound. Hen's heart was racing. She had to keep a clear head, but it was difficult. Chimney worked frantically beside her, trying to put pressure on the wound, but it was clear that the injury was serious. Too serious.

Meanwhile, the others tried to keep the gathering crowd under control while securing the other wooden beams to avoid another accident.

"We're losing her!" Chimney shouted, his voice hot with panic as he performed the makeshift wound care. Hen felt her hands shaking as she reached for the equipment, but she forced herself to calm down. There could be no mistakes. Not now.

"She's strong, no one loses anyone here," Hen whispered, more to herself than to Chimney. The sight of your lifeless body made Hen dizzy. Your chest barely heaved and your face was pale and lifeless, as if the life was draining out of you.

The two worked feverishly. Their hands slid confidently over the injured flesh as they tried to stop the blood seeping from the gaping wounds. The world around them seemed to stand still and all that mattered now was the person in front of them - their colleague. Their friend. Their family.

"Chim, we have to get her out of here. If we don't stabilize her, we'll lose her!" Hen shouted, trying to keep the panic from her voice. Each breath you took was weak, as if the next one might be your last.

"Damn it, Hen, the girder is sitting right on her chest. Bobby, you have to lift the girder! She'll bleed to death otherwise!" Chimney answered hastily, as he secured the pressure bandage to the worst part of your injury. The massive wooden beam had hit you hard, and it was a miracle you were still alive. But for how much longer? Chimney's gaze was fixed on the growing pool of blood beneath his knees.

Bobby, Buck, and Eddy were no time in coming. Each of them knew that time was now their enemy. Buck and Eddie immediately began to position themselves at the respective ends of the girder, while Bobby took the lead and stood over you.

"Okay, everyone ready? On my command! One... two... THREE!" he shouted as everyone lifted at the same time to take the weight off you. The wood cracked under the pressure, and for a moment it looked like they wouldn't make it. But with one last, desperate tug, they lifted it just high enough for Chimney to pull you out.

You were almost unconscious, pale as death. Hen looked at her best friend's bloody, limp face and felt her heart sink. This wasn't just any mission. "Stay with us, y/n," she whispered as Chimney carefully lifted you onto a stretcher.

Bobby quickly put an oxygen mask on you while Chimney applied pressure to the wound with one hand and monitored your heart rate with the other. The situation was critical and the team knew that every second counted. Without hesitation, they pushed the stretcher into the ambulance while Buck closed the doors and ran to the fire truck.

"Hen, Chim, we're right behind you," Bobby called before the doors slammed shut and the ambulance sped off, sirens blaring.

The ambulance sped through the streets of Los Angeles, the sirens piercing the night like the howl of a wounded animal. The city lights blurred into a bright kaleidoscope as the two paramedics inside the car raced against time.

Hen drove the ambulance while Chimney worked feverishly to keep the blood flowing. The oxygen mask over your face was a thin thread holding you to this life. The heart rate on the monitor was faint, and every second that passed felt like an eternity.

"Come on, come on..." he muttered to himself as he applied another pressure bandage over the one already soaked in blood. His latex gloves were red with blood, and his eyes were extremely tense. "We're losing her, Hen. The pressure is off."

Hen pressed her lips together, fighting the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. "Not now. Not here. Not her. We're almost there, keep her alive!"

The ambulance arrived at the hospital minutes later with screeching tires, and the team jumped out, the stretcher with you in the middle. You were immediately surrounded by a team of emergency doctors who moved their bodies like machines, every grip precise, every action practiced.

"Severe chest trauma, internal bleeding! She's losing a lot of!" Hen shouted after the doctors as they quickly pushed you through the hospital doors. Hen and Chimney followed them, both with their eyes downcast and faces covered in sweat.

The rest of the team also watched as you were pushed down the hallway towards the operating rooms and then the moment came when they disappeared around the corner with you and the team was left alone in a state of confusion, concern, hope and fear. In that moment it felt like the air was being sucked out of the hallway they stood in.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Athena stormed through the hospital corridors, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She could hear her own blood rushing in her ears, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic vortex of fear, worry and hopelessness. Bobby had called her shortly after arriving at the hospital, and his words echoed in her head as if they were caught on an endless loop: "It's serious. It's serious."

She reached the emergency room and immediately saw the familiar faces of her friends and colleagues. Bobby was the first to step forward to greet her, his face worried but calm. "Athena..." he began, but she didn't let him finish. "Where is she?" Athena whispered, her voice breaking as she looked around. Her eyes wandered frantically through the sterile, brightly lit hospital corridor until they finally settled on Hen. The paramedic stood with her arms crossed, her shoulders slumped forward, looking exhausted and full of grief.

She stepped forward and put a hand on Athena's shoulder, but she felt that words could not bring comfort here. The pain, the fear, the agonizing wait - all of this weighed heavily on Athena. "She's in the operating room. They're fighting... but it doesn't look good," she said carefully in a quiet voice. Her eyes were tired, the minutes of her colleague's blood loss and the constant tension for her life had left their mark on her too.

"Not good?" Athena shook her head in disbelief, as if she couldn't believe these words. She felt an uncontrollable tremor running through her body that she could barely suppress and the walls seemed to close in around her.

"What does that mean, Hen? Are you going to tell me that she might not make it?" Her voice had gotten louder, almost panicked. Bobby, who was standing next to them, held out his hand reassuringly, but Athena backed away. She needed answers, not pity.

"Athena, we don't know," Hen said carefully, her eyes full of compassion. "She has severe internal injuries and the bleeding was extremely critical. But she's in the best hospital, with the best doctors. They're doing everything they can."

But those words were only a small consolation for her. The worry about you weighed heavily on her chest, and she felt helpless. She wanted to be with you, wanted to hold your hand, to tell you that you should fight and not give up. But all she could do now was stand here and wait. Wait while fate decided the life of the woman she loved.

Athena nodded silently, although inside she wanted to scream. She had to pull herself together, not collapse. "At least tell me that she can feel it... that she knows that I'm here," she finally said, directing her words at her best friend.

"Athena, if anyone can do it, it's y/n. She's a fighter. And she'll know you're here, no matter what."

While the entire team waited, the team of surgeons and nurses fought for your survival. The sterile, cool air in the room was filled with frantic, precise movements. The lead surgeon wiped sweat from his brow as he made another deep cut to find the source of the bleeding

"We've stabilized her, but the blood loss is still concerning. Should we add another unit of blood?" one of the nurses asked as she readjusted the oxygen mask and checked the heart rate on the monitor. Each beat of your heart was weak, almost imperceptible.

"Yes, please. Several ribs are broken, internal organ damage. We need to decompress the left lung," he murmured, handling his instruments more tensely than usual. His hands moved in a routine manner.

One of the nurses, meanwhile, took care of the jewelry that remained on your body. The engagement ring on your finger shimmered in the cold operating room light, a tiny spark in the midst of the fight for life and death. With gentle movements, the nurse removed the ring from your blood-stained hand and carefully placed it in a bowl, along with a chain that had been hidden under your uniform, to later clean these items and hand them over to you as soon as you were able to.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The bright light of the infirmary blinded you as you slowly emerged from the deep darkness of the anesthetic sleep. At first everything was blurry - the shapes, the sounds, the feeling of your own body. You felt that something was wrong, but couldn't grasp what it was. Your head seemed to be wrapped in cotton wool, your thoughts swirled wildly, but one thing was immediately clear: something was missing.

Confusion spread through your foggy mind and your fingers twitched slightly. You instinctively reached for your hand, for the engagement ring that should be there. But it wasn't there. The cool, bare skin of your fingers touched nothing but the air. Panic shot through your body like lightning.

"Where... where is it?" you murmured quietly at first, still too dazed by the painkillers to speak properly. But the confusion quickly turned into naked fear. You blinked, trying to concentrate, but the feeling of emptiness, the loss of your ring, seemed to smother any clarity.

With a sudden, jerky impulse of movement that put the nurses on alert, you began to sit up in your hospital bed. "My ring! Where... where is it?" you gasped, your voice getting louder, your breathing getting faster. The tubes and wires monitoring you pulled taut as you tried to sit up further. Your body was still weak, but your panic gave you a supernatural strength.

One of the nurses rushed to your side, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Calm down, everything is fine. Please lie back down, you've just had a serious operation," she said gently.

But you barely heard her. Your thoughts were a wild storm, and the only reality that existed in your head was the horrible feeling that you had lost the engagement ring. Tears gathered in your eyes and your voice broke into panic. "No! My ring... I... I lost it! Where is it? Where is it?!" You desperately grabbed the nurse's hand as if she could give you the answer.

"It's fine, please, try to relax," said another nurse who had now joined you. "We'll take care of you."

But nothing could calm you down. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, the monitor began to beep faster while your heart beat in dangerous panic for your condition. Your eyes wandered around the room, searching for a familiar sign, something that could assure you that you had not lost the ring and everything it symbolized.

"No... no... please... I need it..." you whispered between gasping breaths, your voice full of desperation. The nurses exchanged a worried look, unsure how to calm you down.

Just then, the door opened and Athena entered, closely followed by Hen, Chimney, Bobby, Buck and Eddie. Each of them had spent the last few hours in endless worry, but when they saw you now - your eyes red and filled with tears, your body upright in a bed you weren't supposed to leave yet - a wave of compassion shot through them. The lump in Athena's throat grew when she saw how confused and helpless you looked.

"Hey, hey, everything's fine," Athena called immediately when she saw the panic in your eyes. She quickly went to the bed and knelt by the side, placing her hands firmly on yours. "I'm here, I'm here. You haven't lost anything."

But you shook your head violently, still unable to think clearly. "No... my ring! I lost it! Athena, I lost your proof of love…” The words came in jerky, desperate breaths as tears streamed down your cheeks. You looked at Athena with so much fear in your eyes that it broke her heart.

Athena took a deep breath, then gently squeezed your hand in hers. “Honey, calm down,” she said, her voice firm but loving. She stroked your hand gently. “You didn’t lose it. I have it.”

With those words, Athena reached into her pocket and pulled out the engagement ring—the ring she had put on you months ago when she had promised you to go through whatever life threw at you together. The ring sparkled in the soft light of the hospital room, a familiar, beautiful symbol of their love and future.

Your breathing slowed for a moment when you saw the ring. Your eyes widened, and the panic slowly faded as reality began to penetrate the veil of painkillers. "You... you have it?" you asked quietly, your voice shaking.

"Yes, darling. One of the nurses gave it back to me after she took it from you during surgery for safety reasons. I've been keeping it for you the whole time," Athena said, holding your hand tighter. "I would never let you lose it. You'll always have it. Just like you'll always have me."

Your chest was still heaving heavily, but your panic was noticeably subsiding. You looked at Athena, your eyes filling with tears again, but this time out of relief. "I thought... I thought it was gone."

"It's not gone. It was always here," Athena whispered, holding the ring gently between her fingers before slowly sliding it back onto your finger, right where it belonged.

There was a deep silence in the room. All eyes were on the couple - the team watched as Athena placed the ring back on your finger with as much care and love as if it were the first time. Chimney, Hen, Bobby, Buck and Eddie held their breath as if they were watching a sacred moment.

Athena looked deep into your eyes, her voice firm but tender as she said, "Will you marry me, here and now, a second time, y/n? Will you continue on this path with me, no matter how hard it may be sometimes?"

The words were a mixture of seriousness and comfort, a promise she had made before - and yet now, in this moment, it felt even stronger and more meaningful.

You, still slightly dazed, felt the world around you finally settle down. The fear of losing the ring had been like a huge wave that had washed over you - but now you were back on the shore. The ring was there, Athena was there. Everything was right again.

With tear-filled eyes and a weak but sincere smile, you nodded. "Yes... always yes."

Athena smiled warmly as a wave of relief and love washed through her. She leaned forward, kissed your forehead gently, and in that moment the whole room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. The team, which had been in tense silence until then, could no longer contain the emotions.

"This is incredibly beautiful," Buck murmured with a moist gleam in his eyes as Hen poked him in the side.

"It's not often that you see someone propose the same thing twice," Chimney said quietly, his voice full of emotion. Eddie nodded silently and allowed a slight smile to appear while Bobby, the silent observer, took a deep breath. For him, this moment was a symbol of the fighting spirit that united them all.

136 notes · View notes

aggieharkness · 1 month ago

Text

Have I earned it, mother? Chp. 5

Pairing: Avis Amberg x reader

Summary: working at the studio was a hard affair for you, but for Avis who had no idea how to run it it was even harder. Coming to find out she has been staying late almost every day you decide to whisk her away so she can take a break.

Warnings: smut (+18), affair, swearing, oral (Avis receiving), fingering (Avis receiving), slight praise kink, pet names, tit play, lingerie, outdoors sex.

Authors note: First of all, I'm very sorry about what's going on in Los Angeles right now. It's truly devastating to see so many families lost over the rubble of what used to be their lives; my heart goes out to all of them. This chapter is for them, so we will never forget its beauty even if the flames consume it all. Hope will sprout from in between the ashes. On another note, I'm sorry that this chapter has taken so long, but I've had to slow down a bit, I couldn't keep up with the way I've been dropping fanfics. I'm not sure if the last part is any good, it's like two o'clock in the morning and I need to sleep but I hope that you like it and as always, be gentle but tell me If I need to be more graphic, if I'm lacking on something. I am here for you, my dear people, I listen. I also accept ideas that you might have or things that you might want to see Avis and reader do. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Avis Amberg.

Shoutout to @bravewithacapitalb for being my beta reader for part of the story.

Chp. 1 Chp. 2 Chp. 3 Chp.4 Chp.6

Word count: 20K (I have nothing to say. I have tried and failed.)

Kiss me in a field of lavender

The tension had been palpable in the air all day, people whispering and gossiping about the newest production that Avis had green-lighted, quiet conversations happening in the canteen away from Miss Kincaid’s or Mr Samuel’s ears. Meg was in everyone’s mouths, and by what they were saying it could be a total disaster for the studio if things carried on like this, but you knew that Avis would not have taken such a leap if she wasn’t perfectly sure, but you had not had the chance to talk about it with her yet. Since that night at the hotel, you two had decided to spend more time together, one way or another. She needed you, not only because you were a magician and always knew how to relax her and make her forget with your skilled fingers and mouth, but because you would sit with her and simply listen. She vented to you all her frustrations, from how she felt about Ace and their life together to how the studio was running her ragged, the productions that they were doing feeling like they were utter shit. They didn’t make her feel anything but disgust and boredom, like they were wastes of time and money, missing out on all those wonderful opportunities to make the people see how the world truly was, to give the spotlight to all those minorities that deserved to be heard. Meg was a breath of fresh air for everyone, you knew she knew, and she was willing to take this risk for the betterment of the country, if it helped somehow.

Sitting in your tiny little office, eyes reading some documents Miss Kincaid had handed you perhaps half an hour ago, you could feel the exhaustion of the day catching up. Your sight was becoming blurry, the words dancing on the paper as you tried to follow the paragraph, your shoulders tense and your back beginning to hurt, muscles stiff and throbbing under your skin. It was a rewarding job, most of the time, but the extra hours you put in almost every day weren’t really necessary, in your opinion, though the mountain of reports and files that never seemed to get any smaller begged to differ. The clock on the wall chimed eight, and after one more try you just couldn’t focus on the document anymore, so you decided to call it a day, putting the pages inside a brown folder and leaving it for tomorrow, on top of the rest of files, the chair scraping slightly over the tiles as you stood. You hadn’t realised just how dark it was getting until you walked past your window, the sky blending the last strokes of purples and pink into a deep navy blue sprinkled with millions of tiny bright specks that glinted high above your head. On one side light still lingered, bathing palm trees and houses with the last few yellowy beams of the day, on the other side a blanket of night enfolding the world.

In the few years you had lived here it still amazed you how different it all was and how it felt the same each time you looked up at the sky. In the distance the streetlamps were beginning to turn on, the stars above dulled by the world down on the ground. Hollywood at night was always so full of life but you had never been too interested in partaking, even if there were times when you did go out and simply had a drink or two enjoying the atmosphere. Tonight, though wasn’t one of those nights; there had been too many meetings, too many conversations and phone calls banging in your head loud as bombs. All you wanted was silence, even if it was for a moment, an instant maybe. Tearing your eyes from the window to grab your coat you stopped mid-step, turning your head to see that Avis’s car was still in the parking lot. Yesterday you had seen it still in its designated spot as you were leaving at seven, and the day before when you had left at half past eight, but you hadn’t been sure if she was staying late every day or if this was a Meg-related thing. Now you were sure it was a normal occurrence, wondering how late she stayed each day before going home; if she went home. It was quite obvious to you that she was giving this studio more than it deserved, in your most humble opinion, but you also knew just how rewarding all this must be for her. A woman who’s never had any power at all, who’s been a housewife for more than twenty years, though that didn’t mean she had to run herself ragged just to fulfil this dream. Once again you tore your eyes from the window, picked up your coat from its hanger, and walked out of your office, locking it once you had stepped into the corridor. You didn’t even notice as the wheels of your mind began to move, your feet carrying you down to the elevator as if you were on autopilot, used to doing this little trek every day several times, but instead of pushing the ground button, you found yourself pushing the one for the first floor.

It surprised you for an instant, but then you realised you had been picturing you and Avis laying over green grass with a few sandwiches and sweet treats along with a bottle of champagne or maybe wine. It was such a lovely idea, and you knew you could wait until the weekend to do it at her place, make it absolutely perfect down to the smallest detail, but something told you that it should not wait. The door chimed as they opened to reveal the floor where the canteen and bar were, hoping that Avis would just go with the flow and trust you as you stepped into the corridor and down to the still open doors. A few boys were having the first drinks of the evening, others a bit tipsy already in a corner discussing heatedly something about a trip to Colorado in what they thought were hushed tones, but you didn’t care much. Approaching the bar, you waited until the man in the white uniform was done drying and putting away a bunch of glasses, signalling with your head that you were ready to order.

-Hi, James. Busy day?

-Not more than usual. I gotta tell you though that if you want something warm better be quick, Nick’s about to turn off the stoves for the day.

-Oh, then could you maybe get me, like, a few chicken sandwiches with lettuce and mayo and two cut up steaks? I would appreciate it. Tell Nick that potatoes are not necessary if he doesn’t want to add them, a Caesar salad on the side would work just as well.

-All that for you?

-No. I’m planning something, but I’m not telling you about it.

-You can trust me not to say a word Y/N. Who’s the lucky guy?

-Sorry, but it’s top secret. Can you give me a bottle of red wine, and some cut up fruit as well?

-Sure, just let me tell Nicky here. It’ll be a little bit, so if you want a drink while you wait…?

-No, I need to do something first, I’ll just come down when I’m done and pick it all up. Watch him with the salt though, I’m not eating another sandwich dipped in the stuff.

-It was April Fool’s, that’s all I can say, hun.

-Still, keep an eye on him.

He was a good guy, you had known him since the first day you had started working here, absolutely terrified of everyone but needing the money. It seemed as if it had been only yesterday when you first set foot in Miss Kincaid’s office shaking like a leaf, a young little thing that only wanted to impress her boss and to not get fired within the week. When you had gone down to the canteen to get yourself lunch you had seen him serving Mr. Samuels and in shock you nearly spilled your glass of juice all over the bar, but James had grabbed it just as your elbow was hitting it, saving the day, and the man’s suit. After that he had been kind and had gently guided you all through the building and the main events in your schedule so you wouldn’t have so much trouble getting through the day. He told you that you shouldn’t be that nervous, that Miss Kincaid was a real nice lady and you wouldn’t have any issues with her, which had turned out to be more than true. You owed him for that, and maybe one day you would be able to return the favour but for the time being he was more than happy to simply be your friend and a server at the studio. It paid well he said. Tapping him on his upper arm you turned away and headed back to the corridor, hearing his loud voice telling Nick about a special order as if it were one of those fancy restaurants you had seen down Sunset Boulevard.

The building was quiet, not as much as it had been that night you had shared with Avis, but the ambiance was far more relaxed than it had been in the morning, hearing your footsteps as you entered the lift, hitting the button for the top floor. In the back of your mind there had been a headache brewing, but it seemed as if the silence was soothing it, slowly vanishing into a gentle ache that maybe would fade completely as the night went by. One could only hope, of course. The doors chimed, opening with a quiet scratching noise to reveal a completely empty floor; not even Miss Stinton was at her desk anymore, having probably left an hour or so ago. Walking over the carpet your shoes made no noise, muffled as you made your way to those big oak doors, noticing how they were slightly ajar, the gentle light from the chandelier escaping and bathing the corridor in warm orange hues. Peeking through the gap you could not help the smile that graced your lips, watching Avis as she rested against the back of her chair, a pair of glasses perched perfectly on her nose, eyes moving from left to right as she took in the words written on the pages, rolling them and huffing every few seconds as if what she had in her hands was utterly disappointing. Her slender fingers with perfect manicured red nails tapped over the wooden desk in a monotone rhythm, the sleeve of her asymmetrical pink and black blouse bunched around her elbow, the fabric clinging to her ample bosom, although in her current posture, you could not see the way they rose and fell under the gown.

It would be marvellous to slip into this room, close the door, and have your way with her, making her pant and moan as you dipped to your knees, spreading her beautifully while sitting in that exact same chair, ruining the leather with each orgasm you could pull from her depths. In your dreams her screams and sweet hushed whines and whimpers would make your body shiver and burn, almost as if you could still feel her tender kisses on your skin, lingering, tasting every inch of you, her fingertips ghosting over your hips, under your jaw, it did not matter. Her presence was ever-lasting, overwhelming when you would wake up in the dark of your room, sometimes alone, sometimes with her beside you, her expensive perfume mixing with her salty essence in a perfect mix that filled your lungs and warmed your chest. You knew that once her husband recovered, if he ever did, all those late-night conversations, all those times you had driven her to your place, undressed her and simply let her sleep in your arms, all of that would go back to the shadows, hidden in every corner only able to steal glances whenever she went to the studio, only sharing her time and bed whenever her husband went away, whenever he neglected her and drove her to tears and her broken down body showed up on your doorstep. It was all a matter of time, you knew, but until that moment arrived you would savour every second life would let you have with her.

Slipping quietly through the crack you tiptoed in her direction, your heels falling onto the carpet softly so as to not draw any attention, your eyes watching her body language that although tense was also calm, focused on whatever garbage she was reading. Her presence soothed the ache you had not realised had settled in your heart since parting with her a couple of days prior, the last kiss still lingering on your cherry lips. Coming to stand behind her chair your hands traced the outline on the top, feeling the stiches under your fingers as you gently moved them to the front, coming to rest on top of her dress. The fabric was soft, the heat of her body seeping through the pink material as you gently began to move them up and down her shoulders. Avis had been so lost in her own world, the words written on the page swimming before her eyes in boredom as she let her mind wander through senseless ideas and wonderful memories, that she had not noticed you coming in, the feeling of someone’s hands on her shoulders startling her in her chair, jumping slightly until she caught a whiff of a perfume well known to her, that sweet berry aroma enfolding her completely as the sudden fear and anger at the intrusion melted away in an instant, relaxing her body into your touch. Her hat laid over the desk next to her purse, forgotten there since this morning, allowing her gorgeous ginger curls to be free and on full display, neatly pinned on top of her head and perfectly placed and soft under your lips as you landed a kiss to the crown of it.

-Hello, darling.

-Hi. �� it was melodious to hear her relaxed gentle tone, every muscle in your body reacting to her voice as if she was enchanting snakes, your head coming to rest over her right shoulder, lips pecking the soft skin of her neck as the hand that had been holding onto the script let it fall on her lap, nails scratching gently your scalp, the other one removing her glasses and letting the fall over the desk. She hummed at your tender ministrations.

-I thought you would have gone home already.

-I wish. – without noticing her head lulled to the side, granting you better access as your lips moved on to that sweet spot under her ear before tracing the shape of her jawline, your hands never ceasing their rubbing on her shoulders, the hard knots palpable through her dress. - Ellen gave me these scripts to read at lunch time and I was just trying to get through the second one before going home.

-Any good?

-No. They really are shit, Y/N. No feeling, no art, there’s nothing here. I’ve read instructions on how to build shelves that made me feel more than this!

-I know, I watched “All Hands on Deck”.

-I told Ace not to green-light it, but he was adamant. – she was beginning to heat up in frustration, but your skilled fingers rubbing those sore spots relaxed her almost instantly, her head falling back against the leather as you pecked her cheek, her eyes closing with a contented sigh. -He said it was good, that it would do well, and it’s one of the worst we’ve made. Where are the meaningful stories? – the way her hands moved of their own accord, emphasising her words even as her body melted against your lips, was a delightful sight. She felt everything so strongly. - Where are the tears, the suffering, the love, the betrayals, the passion… This doesn’t show life, it shows fairytales that are not even that. It’s just crap.

-They are not Meg.

-People are talking about it you know. A lot. Good things, bad things, in-betweens.

-I know it’s a risk but honestly Y/N, you should read it, you should see it. It’s a breath of fresh air and Camille is marvellous, probably one of the best we’ve ever had. – every fibre of her being was practically beaming with pride, her body turning the chair around so she could face you, forcing your hands to slip from her shoulders, but it didn’t matter if the prize was seeing those sparkles of pride in her eyes, the way they glowed as her smile grew bigger with each word. - If Ace saw it, he would be red with rage, but I stand by this.

-I know you do. People here think that you are a scary tyrant, they expect you to be like him, but you are nothing like that. You know this is the right thing, that this film will matter, that some little girl in a tiny village will see someone like her on screen and think “I can do that. I can be anything”. You are changing lives as we speak, darling.

-Many people don’t agree with you. More than a hundred theatres in the South have already written saying that they won’t show it and have pulled some of the other films as a boycott to try and get us to cancel Meg.

-But you won’t. – you knew that Helena Rubinstein made Avis’s skincare perfectly suited to her, but it still amazed you how soft her cheeks were whenever you placed your palms over them, your thumbs rubbing circles on her jaw before your fingers travelled to the nape of her neck feeling a few flyways that had escaped her perfectly coifed hair.

-Of course. I’ve put too much work and faith in this to pull it now. I might tank the studio but at least we’ll go with a film that will mean something.

-You won’t tank it; Ellen has already mentioned that you’ve sued Lawson, Daniels and McHadden for breach of contract and that there’s theatres in the North that have already assured they will have security so they can show it. People might hate it, but there will be millions who won’t. I have a feeling that this will only be the beginning of a promising string of movies made not by Ace Studios, but by you, Avis Amberg.

-You believe in me more than I do.

-It’s easy. – the red of her lips had faded somewhat since lunch time, her plump mouth calling your name, her eyes looking at you with such expectancy that it almost made you weak in the knees. You were tempted to bend over and claim them but for some reason you could not stray away your eyes from hers, so deep and wide, looking up at you without any barriers, no walls to keep herself hidden away from you. Your thumb traced her bottom lip softly not even smudging her carmine as you did so, but the action didn’t carry a sexual innuendo, as enticing and beautiful as Avis was, it was a simple caring gesture. - I know you and I know that everything you do, you do contemplating risks and prizes, rewards that will be at the end of the line. Meg is the start; it will be the hardest of them all just because of that, but once this one’s through, and I’m sure it will be, the rest will just fall perfectly into place.

-Assuming Ace lets me carry on with it all when he wakes up.

-If he didn’t, he would be a fool. There’s talent inside you Avis, there always has been but men are too blind to see it simply because one does not fall into their category of pretty or obedient. Ace will know just how good you are when Meg becomes the biggest hit this studio has ever produced. He won’t be able to deny that this success was all due to you.

Your words dug deep into Avis’s heart, burrowing and settling deep, almost feeling as if you were marking her very soul. She had been in the shadows her whole life; yes, everyone knew who she was and any time she set foot in a room she filled it up with her power and personality but whenever she returned home the halls were cold, silent, no comfort kisses, no sweet words murmured in her ear. She was a forgotten woman in her own marriage, and she hated it more than anything. She hated how insignificant Ace had made her feel all this time and how bitter it had turned her, self-conscious of her abilities as if she didn’t have the right to think she was made for something else than just staying at home. Every day of her life had been a miserable dance of biting words and fake smiles surrounded by an atmosphere of empty luxury until you waltzed in, and everything since that night had turned from a bleak void into something worth fighting for. She was unsure how you did it, but you did it anyway; you made her feel special, unique, as if she actually mattered, that she was worth a million dollars every day she woke up, every second.

Locking eyes with you she could see the truth that glazed them, the adoration and love seeping from every pore of your body and mingling with her skin, and like a teenager, she felt herself blush, a gentle smile painting her lips. You believed in her with every fibre of your being like no one had believed before and that meant more than all the jewellery and priceless pieces of art she had been gifted in more than twenty years of marriage. She would throw them all away if it meant simply hearing you say those words for the rest of her life. The script had fallen at her feet some time ago, but she hadn’t noticed, too lost in you to actually care. Her hands held onto your wrists, keeping them in place on her cheeks as she turned her head to place a kiss on your left palm, the red lipstick leaving an imprint that you didn’t want to ever part with. With the way you always responded to her every touch it didn’t surprise her with how much ease she could pull you to her, your body falling on her lap as each leg rested on her sides, coming to straddle her, your face barely a few inches from hers. Your brain barely registered the way your fingers were now playing with the hair on the back of her head, pulling pins here and there to let one single curl fall to her shoulder, twirling it gently, almost playfully.

-It’s not only me you know, there’s Camille, Ellen, Dick, Jack… There’s an entire studio behind this one.

-But you gave it the go-ahead. You trusted this story with the right cast, you took a risk that no one else would have done. This script is something, and you knew from the very beginning even if you didn’t think they would let Camille do it. This beautiful Jew I’m looking at will make history.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, her chest so full of love that she feared she might explode, her eyes blurry with tears for an instant, but she didn’t give you the chance to watch them fall. Her kiss was hard, borderline bruising even, and yet you could not pull away, her lips soft as her hands cradled your face. Your mouth opened of its own accord to grant her the access her tongue was begging you for, tracing the shape of your teeth and giving you the opportunity to scrape her lower lip, a rumbling moan sliding from Avis’s throat at the feeling. If magic truly existed you would have cast a spell so your body would be able to mingle with hers down to the last atom, feeling her completely under your skin, in your bones, in your blood, your minds dancing around in each other as a thin red thread built and wrapped around you both. To live as one even for an instant, not knowing where Avis ended and you began, so utterly connected that neither of you would ever feel alone, abandoned on the curb of some dark road without direction, would be as grand as letting yourself sink to the depths of the ocean with her hand holding yours, forever united. As your lungs began to scream for air she had to pull away, chests rising and falling fast, the sound of your breaths the only noise in that big office. Avis’s eyes were slightly dilated, and you would have loved to simply take her, she probably had the same idea, you thought, but she needed to get out of that studio, to smell fresh air and leave work behind, at least for one night.

-What would I do without you?

-Break records and that ceiling glass that keeps us from reaching the top. I’m not some miracle that has turned you into a new woman Avis; all that power and skill has always been inside you. The only thing I’m doing is loving you, showing you what I see so that you can realise it and see it for yourself.

-But you are a miracle, Y/N. Mine. – rubbing right under your lower lip she wiped your smudged lipstick with her thumb, her eyes moving from your mouth back to your eyes. There was a single streak on her right cheek where her tear had blurred her rouge slightly, but it didn’t seem to bother her, not with the way her eyes were glinting under the light of the chandelier as she looked at you.

-You are going to make me blush, Avis.

-Not a bad sight in my opinion. Your face all red and pink just for me. I wonder if I could make you red everywhere else. – her voice was all husky and quiet, whispered against your lips almost, sending a shiver down your spine as her hands settled on your hips to pull you closer. Perhaps getting out of this office was going to be harder than anticipated.

-None of that now, you and I have plans for tonight. Don’t get me wrong, I would love for you to leave all me red and bruised, but I think that what I have in mind in going to be a welcome change.

-Oh? Any hints?

-You are far too smart; you’d find out within a minute. Just trust me to take care of you and make this wonderful, okay?

-I would go anywhere with you, you know it, but right now, anything to get me away from these horrid scripts is more than welcome.

-And what are you going to do about them?

-Tell Harold and the other guy tomorrow to fix it or they’ll be out on the street by Monday next week. Ace might have liked these movies simply because they were money makers, which they are not now, but I’m running this studio, and I won’t accept this crap, not anymore. If they want to write shit like this, they can do it in the streets.

-Always so sure of your choices. They’ll learn soon enough that you have taste, but no more of that talk now. If we hurry, we might get to see the last few seconds of the sunset.

Removing yourself from her lap was a herculean task, her hands holding you in place with a harder grip than you had foreseen but of course, there was that lust in her eyes, that possessive tinge around her chocolate irises that was practically screaming at you to forget all plans and just ravish her right there. She would do anything to keep you close and yet your fingers let go of her hair, pinning that loose soft curl back before letting your hands slid over her shoulders. Her fingers wouldn’t let go as you stood, the tips still lingering over the fabric of your white flowy dress but as you took one step back, she was forced to let them slip slowly off your hips, though you didn’t leave her any chance of dropping her hand to her sides or over the armrests. Tenderly your fingers intertwined and with a surprisingly gentle strength, you pulled her to you, her heels landing quietly over the carpet. There was a childish curiosity in her eyes that thrilled you to no end; the fact that you had the ability to always keep her guessing without making her feel as if she was in the dark about what was going on in your relationship was a refreshing change from all those late minute invitations to parties or boring dinners that she had to attend with Ace without the chance of saying no. Rounding the corner of the desk Avis had to let go of one of your hands to grab her hat and purse, but she made no effort to place the first on her head, over her perfect curls. The people left in the building wouldn’t pay much attention to her and if they did take notice, they wouldn’t comment on of the fact that she wasn’t wearing it.

Grabbing your coat from the back of the couch you guided Avis towards the door, flicking the lights off and letting her push the heavy wooden doors close behind you. In the darkness of the office, next to the desk, the script remained forgotten over the carpet. Walking beside you, Avis chatted about how her day had been, the doors to the lift opened and you quickly pushed the button for the first floor once again. Avis raised an eyebrow at that, but you remained quiet, simply smiling politely at her, though a sneaky grin did make its way to your lips when you turned your face back to the doors just as the lift stopped. Stepping out Avis had to let go of your hand. She was getting better with the public displays of affection; a quick peck on your cheek, fingers touching but never holding, a hand on your lower back or yours resting on her upper arm, still she could not bring herself to hold your hand fully. She worried what people might say, how they might react, not towards her, they didn’t have the balls to even look at her when she walked past them let alone tell her off, but you were far more approachable and people could be cruel, not to mention that one slip up and your picture could end up on the front page of a magazine before she could stop it. There was an emptiness in your chest that you didn’t appreciate at all as her hand dropped to her side but there wasn’t anything you could do about it. Avis saw that sadness in your posture, a veil of disappointment shading your eyes, but it wasn’t directed at her. In an attempt to lift your spirits somewhat she looked at the door of the canteen and up and down the corridor to make sure that no one was looking or heading this way before she grabbed your face and kissed you gently.

Your entire frame relaxed into her lips, her palms warm against your cheeks and her fingers falling in between soft locks of hair that had escaped your braid and were now framing your face. When she broke the kiss, leaving you slightly dumbfounded, she was quick to wipe your once again smudged carmine, your neurons short-circuiting for a moment before you were able to function again. It was okay if the pecks were given while Ellen or Dick were in the room, or when Gertie and Mr. Breaton, the old man that worked at the gates of Avis’s house, could enter the room at any given moment, but a kiss so public was not a usual thing she engaged in. Thinking about it you realised that the only time you had kissed in a semi-public space had been on New Year’s Eve while you were still in the car in front of the restaurant, but back then many of the people in the streets were drunk, so they wouldn’t remember anyway. Kissing you at the studio in such a public area was a risk you had not expected her to take but the happiness it filled you with overshadowed the sadness of not holding her hand. With hushed words, you asked her to wait there as you turned and entered the canteen watching joyfully as James placed containers of food on top of the bar as Nicky handed them to him through the tiny window connecting the room to the kitchen.

-Just in time, Y/N!

-I couldn’t have done it better if I had timed it, eh? Did you leave Nick alone with the salt?

-Not for one second. – he had a bright smile, one of the things his wife loved the most he had told you one day when you first started having lunch there, apart from his plumbing skills, and he flashed you one full with teeth as he pulled out a mesh bag from under the bar and placed the bottle of red wine you had requested along with a bottle of champagne, winking at you. It was obvious you were going on a date but there really was no need for champagne, but you were not going to say no to the guilty pleasure you knew Avis had. From underneath the coffee machine, he pulled a wicker basket, placing it on top of the bar so he could start placing all the containers inside along with some cutlery and a couple of paper cups. – Nicky has added some roasted potatoes he had left from some dish or something, hope you don’t mind.

-No, not at all.

-Then that’s all, I think. The sandwiches, the steaks with some salad and potatoes, the drinks and the fruit.

-Yeah, that’s everything. Thanks a bunch, James. How much do I owe you? – you pulled your wallet from your coat pocket, but he shook his head and pushed your hand away from him.

-This one’s on us. We would have thrown the food away anyway. You and your secret love enjoy it; but don’t get too drunk.

-You know I never do. Are you sure you don’t even want a twenty?

-I’m sure. It was actually Nicky’s orders, and you know him, no taking back. Go and have fun.

-Thanks, James. See you tomorrow. Bye, Nick!

From the tiny window the face of a big man with beady blue eyes popped out, his deep rumbling voice wishing you a goodnight as you picked the basket and the drinks, waving back to them both. When you stepped into the hallway Avis wasn’t anywhere to be found, a sudden fear that she might have stood you up, leaving you looking like an idiot with all that food, or that someone could have come and given her some news that had required her to leave, assaulting your mind as you headed one way of the corridor looking for her, but when you reached the ending of the foyer she wasn’t there, so you turned the other way. The despair that had bloomed just a few seconds ago growing exponentially. Rounding the corner your eyes caught a glimpse of a pink dress, registering after half a second her frame leaning against the wall, next to a window smoking a cigarette. A relieved breath escaped you, drawing her attention. She wasn’t the sort of woman that would leave like that, you knew so, but you had had partners that had behaved like that or even worse, making you wait for hours in a restaurant until closing time, drink after drink filling the table as you had cried in silence, and maybe, you thought bitterly, some of those issues were still lingering inside you. It made you feel quite bad the way you had reacted, as if you didn’t trust her enough, as if you believed her capable of doing such a thing when you knew perfectly well that she would never hurt you like that. Releasing the smoke she had inhaled, Avis noticed the fear in your eyes, the way you clung to the basket and the mesh bag, her body suddenly completely alert and rushing to you.

-Hey, are you okay? Did something happen?

-It’s nothing. I’m fine now, let’s go.

-Y/N, talk to me. – she flipped the butt of the cigarette out the ajar window before placing both hands on your forearms, thumbs rubbing circles through the fabric of your coat and dress. - You know you can trust me.

-You are going to think it’s stupid, which you wouldn’t be wrong about, to be honest.

-I promise I won’t. Did someone say something? I will fire them immediately.

-No, no. I just didn’t see you when I came out of the canteen and… I thought you had left.

-Oh, doll, I wouldn’t leave you without telling you and if I had to, I would take you with me if I could.

-I know. It was just my mind playing tricks on me.

-It’s happened to you before, hasn’t it?

-A few times. I know that you would never do something like that but for some reason, I thought you had. Which makes me feel really bad now.

-Don’t feel like that. – the carpet all of a sudden seemed the most interesting part of this entire hallway, but Avis didn’t let you keep your glance downcast, she placed her fingers under your chin forcing you to look up at her. It struck her hard how vulnerable you looked, how much like a scared child you seemed to be with those sad eyes, and she internally cursed about how little she actually knew about you and your past, only a few snippets here and there. Your love life was not something you divulged or talked about while Avis’s conquests were well known to you, and she couldn’t help but feel as if there were pieces of you she still had to find. But she knew that the only thing she had to do was ask you for them and wait until you were ready to hand them out. - You are the best thing in my life, Y/N; I won’t ever leave you. I would never simply walk out on you when you go to such lengths to make me happy, going out of your way to grant me wishes I didn’t even know I had. Don’t ever doubt my love for you or how much you mean to me.

-I don’t, it was just a moment when my demons took the best of me. Relationships like this are still something relatively new to me, but we’ve been through too much for me to lose my trust in you. Still, I appreciate your words Avis, truly. I’m fine now, let’s not let this ruin our plans.

She needed to make sure you were a hundred percent okay, to know that this wasn’t deeper than you were letting on. With a gentle grip around your biceps she stopped you before you could turn away from her, bending to kiss you tenderly, pressing her forehead against yours for a few instants. Just as she didn’t know how you did it, how you made her feel this way, you weren’t sure how she managed to always make you feel safe, protected, and cared for, as if her hands could shield you from every single horrible thing in the world and keep you both inside a bubble where nothing bad could ever happen. Where she could love you forever and always. The heat her body expelled wrapped around you in the silent corridor, the sun casting waves of pink behind Avis in gentle halos that bathed her frame as you separated slightly, the pastel colour moving around her as if a painter was applying brushstrokes all around. Without a word she took the mesh bag from your right hand, intertwining her fingers with yours, and pulled you back down the corridor until you stood in front of the lift once again. No one was there to see you, no one would have cared if they had, and a little bubble of happiness enfolded your heart as she never let go of your hand, not even when you both stepped out onto the ground floor and headed for the front doors to set foot out into the world.

It was a small gesture to show you just how much she truly loved you, a promise that she wasn’t leaving you even if the universe fell apart. You couldn’t truly understand why she was so against holding your hand in public, after all she had been seen touching your back or your arm, even with her hand on your shoulder, your bodies never more than a foot apart from each other. You were even sure someone must have seen her kissing you on the cheek at this point, and yet she still drew the line at holding hands. But despite it all she was crossing the hall knowing that the few people left would see, her action a statement to you but mostly to herself that you were far more important than gossip or a few pictures. You were her friend, her partner, her therapist, her doctor, anything and everything, and if she could have had it her way you would have been her wife already. So, if people wanted to talk, let them talk, they were bound to find something to gossip about anyway, and she wasn’t going to push her happiness to the back of her mind and heart anymore, nor yours. Her grip was strong but never painful, the warm breeze that greeted you both as you stepped out of the building carrying a soft aroma of the first flowers that were beginning to bloom, perhaps a bit early, but nevertheless beautiful in between the deep green grass and moss. You walked to the parking lot and towards her car, but you quickly pulled her arm in the direction of yours, meeting a raised eyebrow.

-I know a place that you will love.

-You don’t want to have dinner at home, in the garden maybe?

-I would love to, but you need to see this spot, believe me. Come on, I won’t crash the car or anything.

There it was, that melodious loud laugh of hers that made your every limb tingle. It rang as clear as glass, echoing ever so slightly in the nearly empty parking lot, and you could not help but join her with quiet chuckles as you pulled her to your Packard. You met no resistance whatsoever and made quick work of the basket by placing it in the trunk along with the drinks that Avis kindly handed to you. Whatever you had planned was bound to be good taking in account the bottles she had taken notice of; an expensive bubbly that she adored with its fruity aftertaste and its smooth flavour, and a rich, slightly sweet red wine that she had every once in a while with her meals, never on its own, and that was a perfect companion for meats and desserts. Just before you closed the trunk Avis caught a whiff of the delicious aroma of roasted potatoes and gravy, her stomach rumbling quietly as she realised just how hungry she was, not having had a bite since lunch time, only coffee and a glass or two of whiskey to keep her running.

Being out of the office was already doing her some good, the tension in her shoulders slipping down her arms as she rounded the side of the car to get into the passenger’s seat but not before closing her eyes and simply taking in a deep breath of fresh air, the last few beams the sun cast down onto the ground warming her face. An instant later she was settled beside you. The car already smelled liked you, that precious berry perfume that you sprayed on each morning clinging to the leather in transparent rivulets that filled Avis’s lungs as you turned the engine on and began to back out of the spot before heading to the gates, the comfort of it making her relax in her seat, resting an arm on the back of it and using her hand as a perch for her head. With her cheek on her palm, she was able to take you in, never tiring of simply staring at you. It felt as if every time her eyes landed upon your perfect face, she found a new feature she hadn’t seen before, like tiny little freckles on your high cheekbones or a beauty mark on the tip of your nose that was almost invisible unless the person was extremely close to you.

But the ones she had engraved in her memory were the ones she loved to take in again and again. She adored the way your full lips curled inward just a bit when you smiled, the way your cheeks dimpled ever so slightly, or how you scrunched your nose when you were concentrating on something. Every little aspect of you was like a wave of mint in her veins, overwhelming and overpowering the rotten stench of her life before she met you. She knew that you were young, younger probably than most of the boys she had had at the gas station, but you were far more mature than any of them and there was something so utterly intricate and beautiful in the way you always seemed to find joy in everything and everyone. She had no desire to destroy all that wonderful happiness that you carried with you wherever you went. People like you are what was needed in this world, and she hoped you would never ever lose what made you so special, so unique and interesting to her. You weren’t some passing fancy though, no, she had had plenty of those in twenty years and it had always ended quickly and messy; with you, it was something true and real and she wished to never be parted from your side until her last day on this Earth.

The sun would set soon over the horizon; you had lost too much time at the studio you thought, but you weren’t about to be a driving hazard simply to get to that spot you knew, to risk both your lives for something that you could go up to the rooftop of the building and watch while holding each other close. If you got there in time, it would be wonderful but if you didn’t it was perfectly alright as well, as long as Avis was happy with what you had arranged in the five minutes it had taken you to leave your office and to go down to the canteen, you would be content. Swerving the car onto the freeway you rested comfortably against the back of your seat, watching from the corner of your eye as Avis turned the dials of the radio until she found a song she liked, returning her head to its previous position over her hand, her feet tapping to the rhythm while humming. There was a gentle tug on your coat, and you looked down for a moment to see her free hand playing with the hem of it absentmindedly, moving her eyes between you and the road ahead every couple of minutes. Those deep chocolate irises observing you, drinking your every movement, made you blush like a schoolgirl, cheeks and neck turning a pale pink even though her touches were nothing but harmless twirlings of the fabric in between her fingers, her skin never brushing yours as to not make you lose concentration on the road.

The spot you were driving to wasn’t really that far away, but the secondary roads were a nightmare to get through and Avis was about to find out as you took the exit that pointed out Runyon Canon. She sat a bit straighter when she saw the sign, dropping her hand to her side, and turned her head to look at you with a raised eyebrow. She hadn’t personally been there but the boys at the studio had mentioned that there were a few nice picnic spots with tables and everything, and as much as she liked the idea of having one with you she was also slightly disappointed that you had decided on some place where there would no privacy whatsoever. She liked being alone with you, no families with screaming children or passersby that would go climbing early next morning, she wanted it to be just the two of you, but she wasn’t going to voice her opinion. You had done things for her that no one else had, she could go through this for you. The first pothole got you both off guard as the light began to dim, your foot slipping from the brakes a little as Avis fell slightly on her side, having to use her hands to stabilise herself on your arm and shoulder. A curse echoed in the cabin of the car as she tried to sit back on her side, but the bumps were making her slide off the leather due to the fabric of her dress and without a second thought she pulled the black skirt from under her thighs hoping that her bare flesh against the seat would help her stay in place. Of course, you had not been expecting that and when you turned your head to see what on earth she was doing you were hit with the sight of the fabric bunched up around her hips, those shapely and delightful legs displayed in nude stockings before you, and oh God, those voluptuous breasts of hers were practically spilling out of her skewed blouse. Without thinking twice, you braked in the middle of nowhere, a cloud of dust enfolding the car, Avis’s body jerking forward before falling back against the seat.

-Y/N! A little warning next time. Is this where you wanted to take me? I’m not saying that it’s not pretty honey, but…

The words were drowned by your mouth on hers, the hand brake nearly forgotten in your hurry to get your hands on her body. You had been fighting hard against your better judgment, but it seemed that you had lost, though you could not say you were saddened by it, not when your hands were holding onto her hips under all that bunched up fabric, digging your fingers hard on her hot flesh, lips on lips pushing her back against the seat without realising it. Avis had not even thought of the fact that she would be half undressed in your presence and your reaction was perhaps a bit too forward for her at first, mainly shocked by it, but she wasn’t about to complain when she had been craving you all day and hadn’t had the chance to have a quicky in her office. When she parted her lips to grant you access, she was pleasantly surprised by the force with which you sucked on her tongue and bit down on her lower lip. The moan that resonated from her making her entire body vibrate, her hands digging hard into the leather to keep herself upright. Just as suddenly as you had assaulted her mouth you separated, eyes filled with such lust Avis thought she might drown in such passion, your body hovering over hers.

-If you want to actually get to the spot and have a nice date with me, I suggest you cover those legs or I’m going to bury myself between them and not let you out of this car until tomorrow morning.

-That’s not a bad prospect darling. That mouth of yours is quite talented.

-God Avis, I’m really trying here to not fuck your brains out, help me out, will you?

-Why would I? – her body pressed against yours, that delicious heat seeping though your thin dress as one of her hands lifted from the seat to rest over the one that was on her right hip, making it travel in between her legs until your fingers were barely an inch away from her centre. She was always warm, hot against your skin, but God, she was burning in between her legs, and your fingers could not help moving closer until they brushed the soaking lace. Avis’s head fell back at the contact, a groan filling up the cabin as you moved slowly up and down. She was absolutely drenched; this couldn’t have been just from now.

-You’ve been fantasizing about me have you not?

-Hmmm, yes. – a gasp escaped her when you pressed your thumb to her clit through her underwear, eyes rolling briefly to the back of her head. - Reversing roles, are we?

-You seemed to enjoy it the other day. – scrapping your teeth on her neck, Avis felt as if she might combust right there and then, your tongue licking the soft skin before your lips made their way to her ear. - How about we make a deal? You let me take you to that spot and we have a nice date, and I might be tempted to ravish you later. But only if those legs remain covered.

-Where are you taking me? – your hand stopped its motions over her centre, a quiet whine parting from Avis’s lips as she locked eyes with you, but your hand didn’t move from its spot on her inner thigh, ghosting over the flesh and drawing goosebumps and shivers that made her ache even more for you.

-I ask the questions today darling. Deal or not?

-Deal.

She could not lie, the prospect of you fucking her out in the wild with people barely a few feet away, hidden by trees or one of those big picnic tables, set her on fire and this whole act of her belonging to you, that possessiveness was just fucking amazing. Like the well-behaved lady she was she pushed as much of her dress as she could over her thighs, pressing them together without thinking to gain a bit of friction. Your body didn’t move away from her quiet yet though; the hand that had just been in between her legs when up to her collar, feather-like touches making the air in her lungs hitch, feeling how it moved down her sternum and over her breasts, bending your head until you could lick the swell of her left tit before you pushed yourself back into your seat leaving her absolutely flustered. She had taught you a trick or two on how to toy with people, and you weren’t about to waste this opportunity. Pushing the hand brake down and shifting into first gear the car began to move again, the potholes and bumps not helping Avis’s situation in the slightest, but you weren’t much better either, with the way her bosom jiggled and bounced you were actually finding it extremely hard to keep your end of the deal.

Finally, and you did send a prayer to the heavens for it, you saw the entrance to Runon Park and the designated area for picnics, but just before reaching it you swerved the car to the left and followed a slightly covered path for a mile or so, the trees tall and dense around you but allowing for the very last beams of light to still come through them, illuminating the way. Avis’s breath caught in her throat at the sight when you drove past the last tree, coming into a secluded clearing. All the lust and fire moved temporarily to the back of her mind as she took it all in from the way the canyon dropped into a deep abyss barely six feet from where you were parking to the vast green that seemed to go on into the horizon, endless and absolutely breathtaking. This… this was better than what she could have ever imagined. Without thinking, without command, her body stepped out of the car almost as if she was suddenly living in slow motion, the skirt falling around her legs properly, but she barely registered it with her hand on the warm steel of the hood, each step she took crunching twigs under her heels. How had she lived in Hollywood for over twenty years, and had never been here? The warm breeze caressed her face, its waves carrying the fresh aromas of pines and wood that melted against her skin as the floral accents from the very first violets and snowdrops danced around her in a harmony of fragrances that filled every cell in her body.

Under her feet deep emerald green grass grew up until the very edge of the cliff and in a need to see she stepped forward until she was barely a foot from it, the abyss deep and terrifying but so stunning that she could not feel fear. Looking to the West a waterfall burst from the rocks, its waters strong and transparent as they poured and fell down to the valley more than two hundred feet beneath her, where a river of powerful currents and acute meanders adorned the scenery, the sounds the wind carried kissing Avis’s ears in sweet gurgles and murmurs of water that filled her heart with such emotion that she could not even comprehend what she was seeing. Every tree, every rock and bush were placed almost strategically as if God had taken his time with this spot only for you both to see. She could not understand how the plateaus where she stood along with the one across the valley were so full of green, trees as tall as buildings gracing the world with a rainbow of greens and browns as they grew, while beneath them rocks as red as fire stood, the careful lines and topography of curves, columns and arches contrasting with the weeping willows and fragile riverbend plants that grew in between the rivulets of bluish crystal waters at the bottom of the valley. Looking down to the East the world was a song of fire, the canyon going on for miles with both gentle curves and acute angles that would have been hidden under seas of green had the river not carved its path deep within them.

Avis couldn’t steer her eyes from it all, observing the way the leaves swayed in the breeze, white butterflies dancing tenderly between the petals of white daffodils and red poppies, the splatters of colour spread throughout the grass in mosaics. There was a ruffle coming from some bushes across the valley, and Avis watched intently as a deer walked out into the evening sun, standing tall and proud with its growing antlers close to the edge as it almost held her gaze, its magnificence making her wonder if she had ever seen one in the flesh. Crossing the streaks of blue that still remained in the skies above, eagles cut through the winds, wings spread wide as their loud calls accompanied the flow of the waterfall. Her eyes had never seen such beauty; the world had always seemed like such a fast paced universe to live in that she had never taken the time to simply stop and step aside from the current of people, but standing here, where nature seemed to carry on without noticing humans even existed, was as if she was seeing her home for the first time, and she could only think about how beautiful it all was. There were eagles nowhere else but on this planet, bees and dragonflies could only buzz and sway over rivers and fields of daisies in this planet the same way that roses and pine trees could only grow and thrive here and she had never realised it until now, when the world was quiet and society laid miles away.

A pair of hands came to lay on her waist, startling her ever so slightly before they wrapped themselves around her as your head rested over her shoulder, and in murmured words you told her to look over to the waterfall. Her head returned to the West slowly, unsure of where her eyes should be, but upon landing them on the spot, both of you watched enthralled as the sun began its last descent. The sky was dressed in thin veils of pink and purple silk before the last golden glow of the day bathed the earth, it’s warmth melting against Avis’s face, only disturbed by the elusive touch of green beams that only a few handful of people had ever managed to catch, its perfect light turning the red sandstones and crystal waters into a world of molten gold and emeralds before it all turned dark and the sky above began to blend its indigo blue into a deep navy one. High up in the sky was now a full moon, lighting the world with white rays as to not leave it in a deep terrifying darkness, all the animals vanishing from the land to return home while others woke up to start their day. The world had turned silver.

-Was it worth the wait? – your voice whispered in her ear as your hot breath sent a shiver down her spine in a reflex response to your touch.

-Words cannot describe it Y/N. This place… how did you find it?

-When you are lonely and homesick you try to find places that bring you comfort, that make you feel as if you’ve never left. I found this one in one of those moments. I had been driving my old car around, getting familiar with the roads, and I took a wrong turn that turned out to be a right one.

-It’s beautiful.

-It was beautiful, now that you are here, it’s perfect.

Romance had seemed such a soppy affair, with all the compliments and shows of affection and love, but by George, was Avis absolutely adoring it all, red as a beet at your words and so very thankful that it was night, and you could not fully see it. Her hands were resting over yours, rubbing and gently moving her fingers over your soft skin as you both remained standing there observing it all, taking in the scenery for a moment or two. The waterfall seemed to have slowed down its incessant pour, the water falling gently from rock to rock, the once bright green moss now reflecting the moonlight as if they were diamonds framing the silvery currents, the grass vast seas of white as the breeze moved them from side to side. She could stay here forever, build a small wooden cottage and live with you, hidden from the world, not having to worry about whether people would approve of you, the doctors unable to call her and remind her that she had a husband in a comatose state, no Meg to think about, no studio to run, just you, her and nature. A most wonderful dream indeed. With a deep breath, the pine fragrance filling her lungs, she felt you turn her around, an astonished gasp escaping her parted lips when she saw a checkered blanket over the ground along with the basket and the mesh bag, a turned-off lantern resting on the side. You were quick, she thought, or maybe she had been truly lost in her surroundings, either way, she was pleasantly surprised by it all and let you guide her to the makeshift dinning room.

Your heels came off, resting on the side, away from the blanket, and in a similar manner Avis removed hers, letting her body fall as gently as she could onto the ground, tucking her legs under her while your flowy dress covered your crossed ones. It wasn’t supper by candlelight, but at least the lantern gave enough illumination when you turned it on, with the lighter that you had picked up from Avis’s purse, that you wouldn’t have to bring the fork an inch from your face to see what on earth you were biting on, the mesh bag falling onto the grass as Avis pulled the bottles and left the champagne over the blanket to work on opening the wine. You both worked in silence, containers resting in between you before you began to remove the lids, the wonderful smell of roasted potatoes covered in gravy and steak surrounding you both while the coolness of the sandwiches remained on the side, a big bowl of Caesar salad in the middle so you could share. Putting the fruit back in the basket so they wouldn’t be in the way. The cork of the wine came out with a pop, Avis pouring the deep cherry liquid into one of the paper cups and passing it to you before serving herself, raising it in the air.

-Cheers.

-Cheers. – it was utterly delicious. You were not much of a wine person if you were being honest, you were perhaps more modern or glamorous, always ordering cocktails, but the fruity aftertaste it left on your tongue was magnificent, simply delicious and lifting your eyes from the cup you could see Avis was enjoying it just as much.

-So, what’s on the menu for dinner tonight?

-We have Nick’s special, of course, steak with potatoes and salad, and on the side some chicken sandwiches because I was not very sure what you fancied. Maybe I went a little bit overboard, but my grandma used to say that it was best to have leftovers than to leave hungry.

-Your grandma was a very wise lady. Should I go first and try the salad?

-Whatever you desire, etiquette is not compulsory here, darling. – picking up her fork she stabbed a piece of chicken practically drenched in the dressing along with some lettuce and using her left hand as a barrier so the food wouldn’t satin her dress should it fall, she popped it all in her mouth. God, it was delicious, the lettuce crunchy and fresh, a crouton she hadn’t seen shattering in her mouth in a perfect balance of salty as the parmesan melted on her tongue along with the juicy chicken, her starving stomach taking it all as if it was a heavenly meal. She probably hadn’t noticed but she had moaned loud and clear, eyes briefly closing as she let the simple flavours assault her, but you had, and you could not say whether you were happy she liked so much or far too bewitched by her that even the slightest noise was music to your ears, as if you were listening to the London Philharmonic, a chuckle escaping your lips as you took some of the salad yourself.

-God, I can’t remember the last time I had something like this.

-If you are reacting like that to just the salad, I’m worried the potatoes and gravy will kill you.

-I’m not. You know how to resuscitate me with that tongue of yours. – she had said it with such a nonchalant tone before bringing another bite of the salad to her mouth that you chocked on your wine, a splatter or two landing on your cheeks. One point to Avis she thought, watching your flushed face as you wiped the specks of deep red liquid from your skin, a naughty smirk painting her lips that’s she hid quite well behind her own cup of wine. – Are you alright? Did something go down the wrong pipe?

-Don’t act as if you didn’t just almost kill me, but yes, I’m fine.

-Me? I haven’t touched you, honey. I think you know very well when and how I could send you to the heavens… or hell, whatever you prefer.

-Are trying to seduce me?

-Is it working?

That raised eyebrow was such a turn on for some reason, but Avis didn’t move from her spot, simply bent over to stick her fork on some of the steak, doing the same motion with her left hand as before but your eyes were clearly staring at another part of her body that wasn’t her face. You would have to get professional help to understand why you were so goddamn in love with her breasts; what sort of magic did they possess to make you shiver and burn at just the simple sight of them? It was playful banter, a game of cat and mouse that you knew she loved, but this time you didn’t answer, simply sat back and watched her chew on the meat, the sound of her humming in approval at the flavour reaching your ears. You could have prepared a better picnic, you could have brought candles and dried rose petals and made it all far more romantic but there was that spark in Avis’s eyes that told you it was perfect. With her hand left hand now resting over the grass she let her fingers rub and gently move in between the twigs and tiny little flowers, the moonlight reflecting on top of your head as the orange light from the lantern cast shadows over your face. She wondered for a moment who did you look like most; was it that grandmother you had mentioned or perhaps your father? Who did you inherit that nose of yours from or those blond locks that swayed in the warm breeze around the nape of your neck? A question assaulted her suddenly, out of curiosity more than anything else.

-When was the last time you talked with your mother?

-Oh. – it caught you off guard the drastic change of topic, but you couldn’t say that you were mad. It was natural for her to want to know more about you, after all, you had kept most of your private life secured away, afraid that she might find you too much of a foreigner or maybe simply lose interest since you were nothing like her acquaintances. But you wouldn’t have brought her here if you were not ready to share, you thought, knowing how much this whole place meant. – Well, I wrote to her last week, so I think that the response should arrive in maybe a couple of weeks.

-You don’t phone her?

-I can’t afford international calls. I do try though, on Christmas or birthdays, but sometimes I can’t. So, letters are the best method.

-Where are you from? You’ve talked about your home, but you’ve never told me. – grabbing a handkerchief Avis picked half of a chicken sandwich, eyes never leaving your face as your eyes glazed with memories untold, deep secrets you cherished in your heart, a tender smile growing on your lips.

-P/B. We are from a tiny village in the middle of nowhere, a couple of hours from the capital actually. I can’t say that we live on a farm but some of my neighbours do. It’s not as exciting as coming from New York, I’m afraid.

-No, but I’m sure is more beautiful. This place reminds you of home you said, and I can’t help but wonder just how much.

-Well, vast fields surround the village, and they seem endless as they go on and on into the horizon. – with your fork you stabbed one of the potatoes, biting down on it as steam curled in front of you, the thin layer of gravy mixing beautifully with the rosemary and the fat that coated the vegetable, swallowing before continuing. - In winter they are all brown and yellow as the farmers prepare the soil for the next sowing, although in some of the areas there are already tiny little sprouts growing before December is over. They might not look pretty at first, but if you go out early in the morning, when the sun is dawning, the olive trees rest among a thin fog that leaves very fragile layers of ice over the branches, and morning dew drops form over the grass that’s beginning to break from the ground. It usually doesn’t snow, but the very few times it has it’s a perfect scenery. White just never ceases to appear in front of your eyes and the air is so cold and crisp but so fresh and the smell of the chimneys just make it all so wholesome, so like home. - You were lost in a world of your own, the memories forming before your eyes as if you were standing right there, on the edge of the village seeing it all, hearing the loud voices of your neighbours and waving to the older married couples that were working on their lands, the cold almost numbing your fingertips. Avis had forgotten about the food and was simply resting her hands on the ground with her head lulled to one side observing the way your eyes were zoned out, your fingers moving gently as if you could show her where you were pointing at.

-In springtime though everything is gorgeous. There’s green everywhere, the trees that had laid naked amongst all that cold now blooming under the warm sun, flowers overtaking the grass as the cereals that had been planted grow tall, sometimes taller than me. There are red and white poppies, and so many four-o’clocks simply sprouting from the sandy grounds. My mother loves them and grows them in the garden in a variety of colours. Then of course there are the pines and olive trees that no matter where you look there’s mosaics of, and we use them for shade when we’ve been working out on the fields or in the garden, to cool down and have a bite. There are so many colours and so many insects. Our house gets filled with butterflies and bees that settle on my mother’s roses to rest and that drink from the tiny little yellow blossoms that will later become tomatoes. And the air… it’s so rich with fruits and vegetables and those wonderful floral fragrances that one could stay out all day and never get tired of it.

-It’s sounds like paradise.

-It’s far from it, but its home. We don’t have waterfalls or big deep valleys carved into the stone, but we have fields of lavender and hawks that fly high above, and slow-moving rivers where ducks and swans sometimes bathe. We can see roe deer jumping from between the trees and rabbits that rush around without a care in the word, building their burrows in those areas where the ground has not been planted so it can rest. Coming here makes me realise that there’s always a piece of home if you look for it, no matter how many miles separate you. It’s in your blood, in everything that you are and that you do. One might not realise it but it’s always there and it’s up to us to reject it and hide it or to embrace it and adapt it as we grow older, to never forget what makes us who we are. I did not grow up in big cities or high up on mountains, but I have lived surrounded by nature and dipping my feet into the warm sea, listening to the waves crashing against the rocks, filling my lungs with the salty breeze. I have walked among orange blossoms and lemon trees; I have been in nameless places in the middle of nowhere, but it was in those moments that I felt at peace.

-So why did you come here?

-Because one can’t stay stuck in the same place forever. I had a chance to make something for myself, to build a life that wasn’t the one my mother or my grandmother lived and as painful as it was, I took it. You left Northport to come here.

-True, but what I built was ruins. Nothing ever lasted before it was knocked down.

-I wouldn’t say that. People know you for you, not for Ace or Ellen or Dick. You have made a name for yourself even if the circumstances were not ideal or pleasant, but when they hear your name, they see you, not you with your husband or with a friend, just you. You might be standing over rubble, but you are not letting it keep you on the ground, you are picking up the pieces and making yourself a staircase to the top. You are running a studio and are going to release the best film in history, I think you have done pretty fantastic from that girl that you were back in Northport.

-How do you always see all the good, positive side of things?

-I usually don’t, but I have seen what sadness and hurt have done to you and I want to make it right. You deserve joy and love, not harsh words or bitter situations. You are doing what no one else has had the balls to do and I know that that girl who moved here years ago would be beaming with pride. – that girl that had been lost and miserable, Avis thought, would she truly be proud? She had had dreams that were shattered, a whole future shaped out before her that vanished into nothing when the talkies came, and then Ace and Claire happened and life just turned into a sea of habits and nasty looks, and that innocent girl became a not so innocent woman, but still filled with sadness and disappointment. And yet she felt as if you were right. That young thing from Northport would have never dreamt of running a studio or making a controversial film but foremost she would have never imagined she would find someone like you, the right person at the right time, just a bit later in life than what she had expected.

-I wish I could see the world though your eyes, I bet they are the most magnificent lenses anyone could wish for. Nothing is ever truly bad or horrid to you, there’s always hope and light at the end of the tunnel. With all those compliments you are giving me you are going to end up spoiling me if you are not careful. I might get used to this treatment. But how about you tell me what is it you want to build? What do you expect from life?

-I don’t know and that’s the beauty of it. My future is a blank canvas. I can be anything I desire, at least that’s what my mother says, from a secretary, as I am right now, to a nurse or a painter. I chose the paths I tread and admit my errors when I take wrong turns because that’s how one builds something worth fighting for. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you are the only person that I have painted on that canvas, the only thing that I’m sure I want as a constant for the rest of my existence. I don’t know where I might be in five or ten years, hell, I don’t even know If I will still be in contract at the studio in six months, but I do know that wherever I am, I will be beside you. – Had your eyes ever been this deep? Had they ever shone with such beauty and determination? Avis wasn’t sure, but under the warm light of the lantern they were open doors to your heart, to every feeling and desire that grew and wrapped around your chest, and she was suddenly pulled into them, falling and drowning in their abyss. Her hands moved the food gently to the side, the containers covered halfway to avoid spills, allowing her body to crawl on all four in your direction, knees digging hard onto the ground underneath the blanket leaving the imprint of tiny pebbles over the skin until she stopped right in front of you, the soft skin of her palms coming to rest on your cheeks as she drew your body to hers.

-And I want you with me. Forever.

There was no room for words anymore, your heart skipping a beat before it began to race as the feather light touches of her lips on yours, hovering but never actually pressing them, drove your hands to hold onto her hips, digging hard over the fabric of her dress as your bodyweight fell over hers. Gravity granted you a helping hand this time and as she pulled you even closer her mouth landed over yours in a tender kiss. Somewhere in the distance a loud coo was heard, echoing in the air around you both but Avis never parted herself from you, absolutely addicted to the way your carmine mixed with the rich tones of the wine and the saltiness of the gravy, leaving an aftertaste on the tip of her tongue that was simply you, your sweet essence. Breaking the profound navy blanket that covered the skies, a magnificent horned owl flew over the crystal waters at the edge of the cliff, flapping its enormous wings hundreds of feet above the ground, casting deep black shadows over the grass before perching itself high on a tree, observing in the night, protecting. Neither of you was bothered by its presence, you were all animals at the end of the day, creatures that had evolved up to this point in the history of the Earth forgetting that before cities and societies existed love was shown among the trees, on the edge of riverbends under the scorching sun or the coolness of the night. One of your hands moved to Avis’s back, the other one resting on the grass as your bodyweight pushed her gently on top of the blanket, the top of her head pocking from the corner of it and in contact with the now deep green that surrounded her.

The new position forced your lips to part, Avis’s chest raising and falling in hurried breaths, and as you moved your legs to straddle her, your foot accidentally kicked the lantern. The flame dying as your hands travelled to her sweet face, left you both bathed in only moonlight, the warm breeze caressing your bodies along with the sound of the flowing waters, crickets playing their quiet songs in the distance. Inching your fingers closer to the nape of her neck, feeling her soft ginger curls, they moved nearly of their own accord to massage her scalp, touching the cold metal pins she was wearing as you scratched your nails over her sensitive skin. It was delicious the way she hummed under you, her hands running up your back to your shoulders to keep you as close as possible to her, shivering as the heat of your body seeped through her stifling outfit. Your lips were torture on her neck, kissing the shape of it from her jawline to the hollow between her collarbones, licking and tasting her sweet skin as your fingers worked tenderly on removing as many hairpins as they could find, nibbling and scraping with your teeth. She needed you to mark her, to take her and make her yours. The way your light touches lingered on her flesh, delightful and thrilling as they drew goosebumps and gentle tingles on her limbs, made her brain slowly lose its train of thought and simply give into every sensation. Releasing the last pin, your fingers threaded deliciously in between her locks, pulling on her hair slightly harder than you had planned though she didn’t seem to mind. The motion had forced her head to lull back, a gasp escaping Avis’s ajar lips as the grip on your shoulder became stronger, her nails threatening to rip your dress.

You had never desired anything more in your life than to keep her in your arms for all eternity. That sweet spot under her ear was assaulted by your lips, the tip of your tongue tracing the outline of her earlobe, your hot breath tickling her skin and causing a mix between a giggle and a groan to slide from her mouth. Painstakingly slowly you moved along her jaw, lips delivering feather-like touches before you moved down to her neck again, sucking hard on her pulse point, delighted in the rumbling moan that she made as her throat vibrated beneath your lips. It was utterly gratifying to see how responsive she was to your touch, to the way your hands moved from her hair to her shoulders, fingering the neckline of her blouse, your fingertips barely brushing her skin and yet her pupils were so dilated that it was a miracle if you could actually get a glimpse of that gorgeous brown of hers. Dropping her hands to your hips her gaze was intense, watching your every move as you sat back over her thighs and began to trace the outline of her breasts and stomach through the fabric until they reached the hem, an obstacle that you had to remove, you thought. Avis felt you pushing the item gently off her abdomen, agreeing silently with you that it needed to come off. She desired to feel your skin on her skin, to have you as close as it was humanly possible, and so she pushed her upper body off the ground, resting its weight on her elbows as she guided your hands to push the garment off her midriff and arms until the blouse simply flew over the grass a foot or so away.

God, she was wearing a nearly see-through corselette. There was a deep groan vibrating in your throat at the sight, the translucent satin cupping her breasts so beautifully, so enticingly that the heat that was coursing through your veins nearly turned into fire, Avis’s rosy nipples stiff and fighting against the material. The boning of the garment hugged the curve of her waist as if it was made perfectly suited to her body shape, and perhaps it was, the olive kissed skin coming through the material that built the bodice, flowers and fallen petals embroidered in deep blues and greens, encasing her form. It was beautiful, you could not help but stare at it for a moment wondering how one came across such things, but your attention returned quickly to Avis, the heat of her body seeping to the palms of your hands from where they rested under her bust. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, bosom rising and falling in rapid breaths in anticipation, unknowing of your next move as your eyes bore into her skin, hot and cold shivers running down her arms and back. Your thumbs rubbed the underside of each breast causing Avis’s breaths to mix with her loud pants as your hands journeyed higher, cupping her tits graciously, the plump flesh overflowing from your palms as you began to knead them, dropping your lips to her now exposed collarbone, teeth scraping the flesh and leaving angry red marks that your tongue quickly soothed.

How could you drive her to such insanity every single time? It made no sense how well you already knew what made her mind go blank, mad with desire and lust, every spot in her body that could draw out moans and gasps, how much pressure to use, how much strength and roughness she required or wanted. Bruises on her body were a marvellous sight for her to wake up to, your lips sucking on the skin of her chest and the top of her ample bosom until the purple began to form, your tongue running over them to calm her flesh, but she would never ask you to stop, finding that gentle pain simply delicious, addicting as your head moved to the valley between her breasts, letting your tongue run over the translucent fabric until it reached her left nipple. The feeling of it rolling in your mouth alongside the friction the material provided was making Avis’s core burn hotter and higher, her left hand holding onto your hair while the other grabbed onto the blanket, her knuckles almost white. The stiff peak twirled around your tongue with ease, your lips sucking hard as your teeth scrapped the sensitive bud, a quiet scream making its way out of her mouth before she could stop it. She was always so vocal, so needy and ready for you. As your head was busy with her left breast your hand had been kneading her right one, but its mission had changed after noticing the way Avis moved under your weight, travelling down her side to the waistband of her skirt in search for the zipper, that was quite conveniently resting on her right hip.

Much to your dismay, and hers, you had to let go of Avis’s nipple, a gentle pop resonating from your mouth as you pushed your body onto the blanket to get rid of the black pencil skirt that prevented her from properly spreading her legs. The garment’s zip slid like butter, both of your hands pulling it down her legs as she lifted her hips off the ground to help you, leaving her matching knickers on display for your eyes to feast on. You were sure you had just had a mini heart attack at the sight of the translucent fabric, her folds practically exposed before you. There was a hunger inside you, a monstrous appetite simply for her, for every single inch of her that you could not satiate, both your hands crawling upwards on each side of her body, over the blanket, your legs moving in between hers to spread her open. Part of Avis was resting over the grass while the other was on top of the checkered fabric, but if the feeling of the cool plants on her skin bothered her she did not mention it, perhaps too lost in what you were doing to her as you hovered over her, lips so close to hers that she could taste the wine on your breath. Her eyes locked with yours, feeling the way her chest pressed against yours with each hurried breath she took, the moonlight reflecting and making her deep brown orbs glow even if deep inside them there was a light of their own, a veil of love and faith that made your heart swell with pride. You and only you had managed to do what no one else had; earn her trust.

Your lips landed softly over hers, your tongue dancing over her now non-existent carmine as you asked her silently for permission to explore her mouth once again, as if you didn’t have it memorised already, but she granted it, nevertheless. It was a battle for what little control you were willing to give to Avis this time, losing to her as she sucked on your lower lip, her hands holding you in place with her overheated palms on your cheeks. The air was filled with whimpers and whines, answers to your every little touch that only increased in pitch as you broke the kiss, one single drop of blood falling onto Avis’s own lips from where she had bit you down a bit harder, your mouth leaving a thin trail of the red warm liquid as you moved down her throat, vanishing as you pecked her chest. You had barely registered the way your blood was staining her skin, too focused on burying your tongue in the valley of her breasts, but the corselette was in the way and you could hardly reach that delicious skin that was calling out to you in whimpered whispers. Your hands were shaking slightly as you lifted your body from hers to work on the first few hooks of the garment, her ample tits inching closer to freedom as you unclasped each fastening, bouncing and jiggling under your working hands until they finally escape and stared at you in all their glory. You just couldn’t get enough of that creamy flesh and pink hard nipples. The mix between a gasp and moan that Avis produced was utterly sinful as you licked the skin and sucked around her right peak, small red marks painting her flesh before you devoured her, nibbling and pulling on her stiff nipple as your hand raked your nails over her left breast, to the point that only a score of screams could be heard from her.

-Please, Y/N.

To hear her pleading was such a thrilling sound, so unlike the Avis that everyone saw at the studio. And who were you to not listen when she was so sweet under your tongue, so responsive to the way your hands held onto her hips to keep her from thrashing around as you sucked and twirled her nipple until her pleas were finally needy enough, imploring even. You had made a deal after all. Under different circumstance you would have undressed her completely, drank her in until you were absolutely wasted in her essence, but this clearing was still a public area, anyone could come here; you doubted they would, but it could still happen, and you were not willing to let strangers see Avis in such a compromising position. Still, you released her breast after one final nibble that had her eyes rolling to the back of her head momentarily and began to kiss the fabric of her bodice all the way to her pubic bone, the material showing the wet spots you had left behind as you licked and pecked. If you took the lantern and gave it to Avis, she was sure she could light it with her bare hands from the way her skin and blood burnt high, scorching every cell of her being. You were inching closer and closer to where she needed you the most, your lips dancing from her left hip to her right, brushing your kisses so close to her clit that she thought she would go insane if you didn’t touch her, eat her alive. In a quick motion one of her hands held onto your hair, pulling roughly as if she could motion you to obey her, but you were quick to push it away and moved to hover your body over hers. With your hand you grabbed her face roughly, forcing her to face you.

-Do you want me to fuck you, Avis?

-Yes. – she was utterly breathless, lust filling every pore in her body as your domineering energy laced your words, sending shivers down her spine as she felt your other hand lazily moving between her ginger locks. Upon grabbing a handful, you pulled hard, a gasp muttered almost against your lips as the pain rippled through Avis’s frame, turning into such pleasure that she thought she might cum on the spot.

-Then behave. We’ve reversed roles, remember? I could have you writhing in pleasure for hours or I could refuse to touch you until you begged and cried for me to eat you out. – God, she loved you, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as your fingers traced the outline of her folds through her underwear, absolutely drenched and so impossibly hot to the touch. – Is this what you want?

-More.

-More? You mean something… like this? – your skilled fingers moved the lacy garment aside, freeing her completely to the warm air of the night. Dipping them properly in between her wet lips, you slid them up and down as slowly as you could, taking in the way her left hand shot out to grab your upper arm, the other one laid hidden under the bunched-up blanket, groans and moans echoing in your ears as her eyes fluttered close. Her neck was right under your mouth, a slow tender lick coming from the hollow between her collarbones to right under her chin, cleaning up the blood you had left there only a few minutes earlier, drawing out a quiet whimper. It was borderline torture, it had to be, the way you were moving at a snail’s pace, and she knew you knew, a smirk on your lips when she opened her eyes with a pleading look.

-Please, Y/N, don’t tease me.

-It’s not enough? Maybe I can do something about it. – your motions stopped completely, the frustration at the lack of friction making her whine. With your lips brushing her ear you whispered lustfully. - Apologise and I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted. Just one word, Avis.

-I’m sorry. I’m sorry Y/N! Please, please.

-Well done, darling.

She almost missed the pain on her scalp when you released her hair, but there wasn’t much room for her to think when she felt your lips on her inner thighs, licking the soft skin and kissing your way up to the joint between her hip and her wet folds, her breath hitching in her lungs in anticipation. The instant your tongue slid over them she felt as if she was about to pass out, her eyes rolling to the back on her head, ripping what grass she could grasp with her fist. It didn’t matter how many times you tasted her; she was the most delicious salty meal you could ever have, and there was a perfectly cooked steak maybe two feet from you both, but it could not fill you up the way Avis did. The laps you were doing on her drew out moans and yelps from deep within her, her legs trembling already, hips buckling to try and get as much friction as she could. To keep her still you placed a hand on her lower abdomen, reaching with the tip of your tongue the base of her clit. She was close, you could feel it in the way her thighs were beginning to shake ever so slightly, her moans higher and higher in pitch but they were still not quite there yet. There were wrinkles in the blanket that were digging on your knees, but you cared very little, adding your fingers to the upwards-downwards motion as to coat them in her juices and make sure you didn’t hurt her, though with how your face and upper thighs were practically drowning in her arousal you doubted it could happen.

-God, Y/N, more. Fuck.

Two fingers went deep inside her, pumping gently in and out to let her adjust, your tongue having moved higher until her swollen bundle was twirling lazily in your mouth, her fingers on your head out of habit and to keep you well in place. There was a thin layer of sweat covering Avis’s body that made her glow under the moonlight, her skin flustered and the most erotic shade of red your eyes had ever seen, her head lulling back with each movement from your fingers, pants and yelps echoing against the trees. You should keep her quiet, she could draw the attention of passersby, if there were any, but you couldn’t quite do it, it was just delectable to hear her lost in passion. Without a care in the world. Her walls clenched around you, a sign that you needed to increase the pace of your hand as your lips sucked on her clit, feeling how she was coming undone piece by piece at a faster speed that you had anticipated. She must have really worked herself up throughout the day to be so desperate for release. The hand that was holding her in place pressed a little harder, mixing with the third finger that you had just pushed in, adding to the pleasure that had been steadily building higher and higher, skyrocketing it. Her throat felt raw as she screamed over and over, losing her mind under your ministrations, the tension building as her toes curled and her heels dug onto the earth. With one hard nibble on her clit, along with your fingers curling, pressing almost against the one on her abdomen and she fell completely apart.

-Y/N! YES! AHHH! YES! YES!

There was fire in her veins, white hot flames spreading through every cell, every limb, electric shocks travelling from the top of her head to the tip of her toes and fingers, her head thrashing up and down as she held onto your head, buckling her hips to meet your pace as she rode out her orgasm. Her eyes were open wide for an instant, the sky above peppered with millions of tiny sparkles of light, but she was unsure whether they were real or simply brought on by the pleasure that was rocking her entire body. Either way, she didn’t have enough sense left to think, let alone differentiate between reality and dreams. Your punishing pace never faltered, pants and screams mixing until her juices exploded all over your face, her mouth hanging open in utter silence as her back arched of the ground. So the hand pressing on the abdomen really did work, , a little something you had read in a very inappropriate book, you thought as she squirted all over you, your tongue lapping up and down and around your fingers to make sure you were capturing every single drop until there was nothing left, drinking her in. Your mouth had left her overstimulated clit alone, kissing the soft skin of her thighs and knees as you gently helped her come down from her high, fingers slowing down after a moment or two until her legs stopped trapping your head, dropping onto the floor with gentle trembles, the hand on your head slipping onto the ground. She was completely spent, her head clouded in desire and afterglow passion that kept her laying on the floor panting for air. Pulling out, you used to blanket to wipe your fingers clean, crawling beside her until your head rested over your arm, rubbing Avis’s shoulder in an attempt to calm her racing heart and to let her know you were still there, that you hadn’t left her.

-Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?

-Hmmm – all that she could muster at the moment was to open her eyes lazily, turning her head to look at you as the waves of pleasure left her body, the hand that had been holding onto the blanket finally freeing it form its grip, rubbing your thigh over your dress. – It was fantastic, doll. And you say that Ernie didn’t put you on contract?

-I haven’t lost my touch it seems. And yes, there wasn’t much market for me, I’m afraid.

-Fools, all fools. Trust me, baby, if you ever do lose it, I’ll be the first to inform you.

-Good to know. I was wondering, honey, where did you get this underwear? It’s gorgeous.

-It’s actually tailored. I wanted something special, and I went to my favourite store to see what they could do, and we came up with this. I wanted the flowers in gold and white, but they didn’t stand out enough, so we settled on blue and green. Did you notice what flowers they are?

-I’m afraid not, I was too busy staring at your magnificent breasts. – a loud laugh burst from her throat, floating in the air around you as she tapped your thigh in amusement. It was a gift the way you made her adore herself the same way you worshipped her body, as if she was a work of art. After a moment it died down, leaving a small smile on her swollen lips.

-Thank you for the compliment, dear. As for the flowers, they are orange blossoms.

-Avis.

-I know, I didn’t have to do this, but I wanted to. I wanted to have something that clearly means the world to you as closer to me as possible. I couldn’t risk a necklace with your picture, so I settled for the next best thing that would still keep you near my heart.

Your hands took hold on her waist, pulling her body impossibly close to yours, needing her in your space, in your personal bubble. With your left hand you turned her face towards you until your lips met hers, a sweet tender kiss to show her just how much you appreciated the gesture. You would never met someone like her, there was no one like Avis in this entire universe and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have found her. She still needed a minute or two to go back to normal, the lazy patterns your fingers were painting on her overheated skin soothing the sensations that were still clinging to her skin. Breaking the kiss your head hid in the crook of her neck, smelling her perfume and the soft hint of sweat that laid over her flesh, but Avis’s eyes were staring up at the sky. The deep universe that laid up above was sprinkled with billions of stars, glinting and shinning like diamond in the firmament, coloured clouds of dust swirling between them, around them, all over, in bright pinks, reds and purples, brushstrokes of baby blue blending among them. They formed a perfect line that crossed from North to South, and as the seconds went by perfect white swirls appeared all around as if an explosion of the most beautiful colour palette had just happened before her eyes, the universe in constant change right in front of her. She could spend all eternity laying here with your body pressed against hers, eyes taking in every little detail of the world around her, the deep emerald trees blending with the navy blue in perfect contrast. A gentle cooing reached her ears, eyes moving from left to right until they settled on the owl that had perched itself high up on a pine tree a while ago, its piercing yellow eyes watching her for an instant before they returned to the deep valley beneath you all. She had lost track of time she realised.

-Y/N?

-Hmm? – with a tender peck on the side of her neck you turned your head to look at her, observing how enthralled she was by the sky. It warmed your heart to see that even after so many years of Avis walking on this planet there were still secrets you could show her, images that her eyes had never laid upon and that you had the power to engrave in her mind.

-Have I told you that I love you?

-Once or twice, I think.

-Well, don’t you forget it, because I truly love you.

-As if I ever could when I love you just as much, Avis.

Her hands slid over yours, a small smile on her lips as she closed her eyes, letting your heat seep into her skin and bones. A cool breeze swept through the clearing, a deep shiver shaking Avis’s frame. It was beginning to get cold, and as you glanced down at your wristwatch you saw that it was nearly eleven, too late for you both after the day you had had. You didn’t want to unwrap yourself from Avis’s frame, but you didn’t want her to get sick, your hands pulling her into a sitting position to hook the corselette back in place, being extra careful not to touch her sensitive nipples. As she adjusted her bosom you crawled around picking up her skirt and blouse, hissing as you felt your knees land right over the spot where all of Avis’s hairpins had landed, cursing under your breath. You had half a mind to leave them there but you didn’t want Avis to ask about them when you were already ten miles away from here and have to drive back to not find them in the dark, so you went around feeling the blanket with your palms and putting them in your pocket until you were sure you had most of them. She was waiting patiently on her knees, the pearly beams bathing her skin as if she was dressed in silver. Your eyes stared at her tussled hair and bruised skin for an instant, contemplating your handy work with pride before handing her the clothes. As you dealt with the uneaten food and spilt cups of wine, from the corner of your eye, you watched Avis stepping into her skirt, the perfect curve of her ass so tempting, the black garment hugging her perfectly as she zipped it before pushing her head through the blouse, smoothing the fabric best she could once everything was in place, running a hand through her slightly knotted curls. Standing up you were about to put the basket back in the trunk when Avis stopped you.

-We still have the ride home; all this doesn’t have to go to waste. Just give it to me.

She had a new lightness to her, her feet almost skipping barefoot over the grass as she rounded the hood of the car to leave the basket on the passenger’s seat, heading your way to help you fold the blanket once you had put the champagne bottle in the trunk. Nature suited her, it gave her a new look on things, it made her feel alive, as if there was something much bigger than her that she had the opportunity to contemplate. Maybe one day the both of you could live in a secluded spot without a worry in the universe, only the trees or the waves witnesses to your love. Once Avis had put her shoes on your eyes there was nothing left on the ground, no sign of what had transpired in the last few hours, and as you were about to turn towards the car you felt for an instant that you could not quite go, that everything had been too perfect to lose it, to only keep it as a memory. Avis had noticed your slumped shoulders and was quick to wrap her arm around your waist and pull you close, simply watching it all. She wanted to say something but was unsure as to what, she wasn’t sure if you even needed to hear something, feeling as if she had to let you go through this on your own terms. So, she simply stood by you, her presence comforting as you once more said a mental goodbye to your home. It never got easier even if it wasn’t really your land or your country, but the sky above was always the same, no matter where you stood the same stars shone bright and glinted in the night and you knew that no matter many oceans separated you from your family they were looking up at the same firmament, a point of eternal union. With a quite sigh you promised yourself that you would come by soon, with Avis if you could.

Nodding against her shoulder Avis understood the movement and gently guided you towards the car, letting go of your hand after opening the door for you. With the both of you settled over the leather seats, the warmth of the cabin a welcome feeling on Avis’s slightly chilled skin you turned the engine on and carefully drove down the same path you had used to get there in the first place. “In the Mood” was playing on the radio, a cheery tune that quickly lifted your spirts, a fork with a piece of steak appearing in your line of vision. With a chuckled you took the meat, chewing even though it was cold, not that you minded, the rich flavours still there, just dulled a little. Hearing some ruffling beside you, you turned your attention away from the road for a moment to see Avis battling with a potato that kept sliding off her fork, the gravy dripping in thick drops. Reaching the edge of the woods, the sign for Runon Park shone bright against your car’s headlights, showing the way to those awful secondary roads that you needed to drive trough to get to the freeway, but the ride wasn’t as back. Avis kept feeding you every few minutes, a light banter and chatter settling between you over the music that the radio was playing, a sip from the bottle of wine smoothing everything down beautifully until there was only a little bit less of the red liquid left once you got to the freeway.

At that time of night there wasn’t much traffic, and you could slip your eyes of the road just a tad bit more to look at Avis as she gave you the final bite of the Caesar salad, moving on to the fruit. There were strawberries, bananas and what you suspected were slices of oranges, not entirely sure from your current angle. Avis showed you the fork with some of it, asking simply by raising her eyebrows, but you kindly declined, full already and not desiring a night of tossing and turning with indigestion, she could have it all if she wanted them. The radio began to play a different tune, something a bit slower, the atmosphere in the car adapting perfectly as you took exit 56, your companion resting her back against the seat while munching happily on what you were now sure were oranges. The Amberg residence was only a few streets away already, swerving the car around the corner, the night inching closer to an end that neither of you wanted, reality settling in between you once again, those stupid social norms that kept you from simply walking into her house and never leaving. The streetlamps shone bright as you came up to the gates, noticing strangely that they were slightly open, Mr. Breaton nowhere to be found, but you didn’t think much of it, he was an older man and it was already late, he could have simply gone home.

Parking on the side, in your unofficial spot, you turned the engine off. There was no beating around the bush, she was home, and she didn’t want to part ways with you, she simply wasn’t ready; there was a voice in the back of her mind that told her that she had to stay with you. Avis had turned her head in your direction, but the words she was about to say never made it out, your body already out of the car, rounding the hood to open the door for her. You didn’t want to leave her, of course, but you weren’t going to cry about it either, you preferred to cling to the memories of this evening, stretching your hand to help her out after pushing the door out of the way. She was pleasantly surprised by the gesture and smiled up at you, a charming “thank you” leaving her lips. Maybe it wouldn’t be as hard to convince as she had thought. Accompanying her to the front door the breeze that swayed around you both was turning colder by the minute, a very slow fog forming around the streetlamps. The hairs on the nape of your neck suddenly rose, your body filled with goosebumps, the strangest sensation spreading through your body, but you were quick to push it away. The porchlight was on, glowing softly as you walked the few steps that separated the garden from the front doors, coming to stand under its roof. It was rather childish the way you were both simply standing there, like a teenage couple that had just returned from watching a film or having a milkshake, wanting to stay with each other but knowing that the best thing was to part ways. And yet your hands never left hers.

-Here we are.

-Yes, here we are.

-You can stay if you want. There’s more than enough room in my bed for you. – her grip was a bit harder, hope blooming in her chest that perhaps tonight she wouldn’t have to go up to an empty bedroom and lay awake all alone.

-I know, but your daughter’s home and you need to sleep. I’ve kept you out long enough already.

-She doesn’t have to know.

-I don’t want to ruin the relationship you are building with her. I don’t want you to lie to her and break that bond that you’ve been working so hard on.

-I don’t want you to go. – her voice was so small; it sounded so weak and sad that you were tempted to stay and throw caution to the wind, but you knew that if you stayed Claire would go nuts at you both if she found out, and you were more than sure that you would find it very hard to not sleep with Avis again and she really needed to rest. Letting go of one of her hands you placed it on her cheek, rubbing the soft skin tenderly.

-I don’t want to either but think about it this way. If I go, you will have something look forward to the next time we met. True that it won’t be in a week, we will see each other again at the studio tomorrow, but I’m sure that you will look forward to it.

-Will you have lunch with me then?

-Of course. Now, go in and go to bed. I think I’ve left you satiated enough that sleep will find you easily.

-Cheeky. Thank you for tonight Y/N. I’m grateful that you showed me such a special place. I didn’t know there was anything like that here.

-It was my pleasure, believe me. Perhaps when the weather allows it, you and I can go visit a few more of those secret spots.

-I would love to. I’ll see you tomorrow?

-Tomorrow.

-I love you.

-I love you too.

These bittersweet kisses were not your favourites by far, after all partings never were even if they were only temporary, but at least you would go to bed with the flavour of her and the acidity of the oranges she had just had deep in your lips. Separating after a few seconds, she flashed you a bright smile before pulling her keys put of her purse and opening the doors. From underneath the threshold she blew you a kiss, your hand moving to catch it and place it close to your heart. The darkness of the hall swallowed her, and you stood there until the sound of the heavy oak closing in front of you boomed in your head. Perhaps you had been wrong, maybe you could stay tonight, just once, you thought, but your musings were interrupted by the sudden feeling that someone was watching you. For an instant you thought it might be Claire, but the curtains of her room were drawn and there were no shapes near the windows. Turning around you inspected the garden but there was no one there and yet the feeling only got worse, the fog settling faster than you liked as you made your way to your car as quickly as possible. Avis heard the rumbling of your motor from the bedroom, removing her clothes as she stepped into the bathroom, that feeling that you should have stayed stronger than before but there was nothing she could do about it now. Backing out from the house and back onto the road you didn’t see the figures dressed in black that came from the shadows, slipping into Avis’s house without an issue, hands signalling onto the empty street, or what might have been an empty street if a black Lincoln hadn’t unparked out of the blue, following you into the night. Come the next day you would realise that its headlights never turned on.

#avis amberg #avis amberg x reader #patti lupone x reader #patti lupone #lilia calderu #lilia x reader #we thank miss lupone simply for existing #hollywood 2020

72 notes · View notes

benniefranky · 25 days ago

Text

reintroduction to shiftblr ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

「 ✦ NICOLE ✦ 」

⭒ 25 ⭒

I am an somewhat active shifter, have shifted many times for 5 years now.

I am a mother and a father! I have kids in other places and a sweet partner here who is the most supportive human anywhere and everywhere ☾𖤓

18+ moots only please! i will not fb if you don’t have age in your bio

moodboard blog ᯓ★

scripting pinterest ⋆˚࿔

main pinterest ⋆˙⟡

desired reality info under the cut 𓇼🧉❀🐚𓆉︎ ࿔*:･ﾟ☾

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

KEY

✮⋆˙ I have shifted to this place

.ᐟ I haven’t shifted here yet

important!

every reality i go to is a university and above dr! i am an adult! that is true Everywhere i go! which means that when i shift i am surrounded by my peers! my age! don’t be weird <3

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⋆

ACTIVE REALTIES

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Scientist 「 ✦ Nexus Labs ✦ 」 ✮⋆˙

last shift - 4 months ago

current year - 2089

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⋆

PRIMARY REALITIES

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⋆

slightly inactive solely because i’ve only been focused on nexus and this reality for like 8 months oops

my baby my shayla these places mean everything to me

➤ Winx Club 「 ✦ Solaria ✦ 」 ✮⋆˙

➤ Casino Royale 「 ✦ Neocardia ✦ 」 ✮⋆˙

➤ Vampire Academy 「 ✦ St. Vladimir’s ✦ 」 ✮⋆˙

➤ Cyberpunk 2077 「 ✦ Night City ✦ 」 ✮⋆˙

➤ Once Upon a Time 「 ✦ Enchanted Forest ✦ 」 ✮⋆˙

➤ Gendonelune 「 ✦ Ephedia ✦ 」 ✮⋆˙

➤ Barbie 「 ✦ Fake Malibu ✦ 」 ✮⋆˙

➤ Star vs the Forces of Evil 「 ✦ Mewni ✦ 」 ✮⋆˙

➤ Streamer 「 ✦ Austin TX ✦ 」 ✮⋆˙

➤ South Park State University 「 ✦ South Park ✦ 」 .ᐟ

➤ Titans 「 ✦ Metropolis ✦ 」 ✮⋆˙

➤ Van Life 「 ✦ Victoria ✦ 」 ✮⋆˙

➤ American Ballet Co 「 ✦ New York City ✦ 」 ✮⋆˙

➤ Baseketball 「 ✦ Milwaukee ✦ 」 ✮⋆˙

➤ Celebrity Family 「 ✦ Los Angeles ✦ 」 ✮⋆˙

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⋆

special realities

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⋆

realities where it’s several things mashed together

all of these are a work in progress besides Gendonelune and Spooktropolis / i don’t know if i want to continue working on the script

“threw it at the wall and saw what stuck”

➤ Spooktropolis .ᐟ

Monster High/Monster Prom/Ever After High

➤ Class Act .ᐟ

The Next Step/Tiny Pretty Things/Dance Academy

➤ Eltarose .ᐟ

Gossip Girl/Dynasty/Pretty Little Liars

➤ Gendonelune ✮⋆˙

Wizardess Heart +/Lolirock

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⋆

secondary realities

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⋆

places i want to go to or have been to with a small or incomplete script / more on the back burner than i would like to admit

➤ Asolo Italy ✮⋆˙

➤ Voice Actor ✮⋆˙

➤ Actor .ᐟ

➤ Saviors ✮⋆˙

➤ Modern Royalty .ᐟ

➤ New Girl ✮⋆˙

➤ Trolls .ᐟ

➤ Jersey Shore ✮⋆˙

➤ How to Train your Dragon .ᐟ

➤ H2O .ᐟ

➤ Rise of the Pink Ladies .ᐟ

➤ Futurama ✮⋆˙

➤ Baldur’s Gate .ᐟ

➤ Beverly Hills 90210 .ᐟ

➤ The Hills .ᐟ

➤ Bridgerton .ᐟ

➤ Broadway ✮⋆˙

➤ Camp Halfblood .ᐟ

➤ The Clever Keg ✮⋆˙

➤ Miraculous ✮⋆˙

➤ Bob’s Burgers .ᐟ

there are a bunch of places i have ideas for but no plans and this isn’t even half of it

ok bye! ◡̈

#reality shifting #shifting #shifting community #shifting blog #shifting antis dni #shifting motivation #shifting diary #shiftblr #desired reality #anti shifters dni #dr scrapbook #dr scripting #Spotify #benniefranky #nickysdiner

113 notes · View notes

luneshallshine · 2 years ago

Text

✂ txt as kinks (m)

ღ a/n: another attempt at smut... i hope this turns out better..!

click here for the ateez version :)

minors n ageless blogs do not interact please! afab!reader (use of female terms)

ღ yeonjun, soft dom

♫ playing now : the best i ever had by limi

corruption kink

he's definitely not a virgin

man carries himself too hard to be a virgin-

he will RELISH in the chance to corrupt his partner

be their first and be the only one to fuck their cunt

will treat you so sweetly!

it will be a different type of feeling for yeonjun, like he's never liked fucking someone so much

until you <3

will teach you everything he knows and help you be more confident

wants to be your one and only

"my sweet angel, my darling, i'll make this feel so good, you will want more.."

sensory deprivation (giving and receiving)

PLEASE

i was staring at my screen and then i thought of him with a blindfold

will love figuring out your sensitive parts

teasing you

and overstimming you while you can't see him

will kiss you a lot when he covers your eyes

a LOT of dirty talk

prepare to be teased for a long time..

"if only you could see how hard i am for you, here, let me rub against you.. feel it now?"

ღ soobin, switch (leaning sub)

♫ playing now : babygirl by maeta

free use (receiving)

now, this has be when he FULLY trusts you

he is desperate to please and will offer this to you when he feels safe

has to establish a safe word

once you guys are settled

he will allow you to do anything

want to fuck him while one of his members is asleep in the same room?

want to fuck him when he is on call with yeonjun?

want to fuck him when he is getting ready to go on stage?

he will not say no

"right here baby...? okay let me lock the door.."

nipple play/breast worship (giving)

a total tits guy..

i am not going to lie on this site

he will toy with your breasts for as long as you'll let him

he will kiss them and shower them with love

might give them more attention than your cunt-

he just loves them

doesn't care about size

just wants to kiss them and wants his hands on them

will love watching your chest as you two make love

"so pretty, it's always like your breasts ask for my touch.."

ღ beomgyu, switch (leaning dom, bratty sub)

♫ playing now : alone with you by ashlee

taking pictures

will whip out his dick his polaroid camera and spend a lot of money making sure he always has film

loves taking photos of you on your knees

his dick in your mouth

will keep it in his wallet

would put in his phone case but too many people might see it

and only he should be able to look at you like that

"pose for me darling, my dick looks so nice in your mouth, say cheese.."

pain kink (hair pulling) (receiving)

i'm not over emo beomgyu

no moa is

he loves you pulling on his hair as he eats you out

it makes me know that you like what he's doing

will groan and whimper

leans into your touch

wants you to be rough when he's feeling subby

"mmh? does it feel that good angel? tug it more, i like it."

ღ taehyun, soft dom

♫ playing now : red lights by stray kids

strength kink

he doesn't work out for nothing !!

he's been wilding more lately and his muscles are getting ridiculous

he would want to manhandle you, prove me wrong (you can't)

wall sex...

SOFT wall sex

yes

"hm? no you're not heavy at all, don't worry angel."

marking (receiving and giving)

idk why but i feel like tyun is a possessive typa guy

not in the way that he wants to mark you

but that he wants to be marked up

would show it off nonchalantly

like at the gym

omg..

would go workout with you and take off his shirt to show off all the marks you left

so no one will bother you both

omg !!

"yeah, i know they're staring. you did such a good job last night angel."

ღ huening kai, switch (leaning sub..)

♫ playing now : heaven by taemin

praise kink (recieving and giving)

this sweetie :(

he wants to know that you like what he's doing !!

will praise you just as much but he loves loves loves getting it too !!

after every major action he does, he'll look at you

silently asking for reassurance

will ask you afterwards if everything was ok

be honest with him

when you praise him, he gets a warm feeling in his tummy

will do everything to get your approval

"is this okay..? it is? great, i'll do a little more then.."

joi (jack-off-instructions) (receiving)

not

ask

i just got this vibe

ok im fully on this sub!hyuka train

like i have said

he's eager for validation and praise

so he'd listen to you order him around

bonus if you're out of reach

just imagine him listening to you so well that he doesn't even realize he came a minute ago

"like this? o-okay.. yeah it feels really good, more.. i wanna do more.."

i'm getting better at this 18+ stuff, let's gooo !

ღ lune

#ღ the lune sees all #txt #txt scenarios #yeonjun #beomgyu #soobin #taehyun #kang taehyun #txt smut #hueningkai #huening kai #yeonjun smut #beomgyu smut #soobin smut #txt hard hours #huening kai smut #taehyun smut

2K notes · View notes

comphy-and-cozy · 9 days ago

Text

Teacher's Pet - Adrian Kempe

Pairing: professor!Adrian x student!Reader (f)

Summary: On your farewell tour at USC, you visit your favorite professor one last time before you graduate.

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: Age gap, forbidden/taboo relationship, a little bit of faux bribery. Smut (18+ ONLY). Semi-public/risque sex, oral sex (f + m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie. The usual.

Masterlist

The warm, April Los Angeles sun shines down on your skin. Blossoming Magnolia trees line the brick-paved path; underneath them, students gather on knit blankets on the neatly trimmed grass. Spring on USC campus is one of your favorites. It’s one of the things you’re going to miss the most when you graduate in just a few short days, finally receiving the most expensive piece of paper you’ll ever own.

Adjusting the canvas bag over your shoulder, you suck in a deep breath of fresh, California air. As you admire the beauty of the campus you’ve called home for the last four years, your mind drifts to the man that sits in your final destination.

He’s only 30, the youngest professor you have by at least a decade, but he’s still almost a decade older than you. He’s smart, he’s well-spoken, and he’s gorgeous.

You first met Professor Kempe when you took his Behavioral Neuroscience class your junior year. Of course, there was a running joke that Professor Kempe was the heartthrob of the Psychology department—and for good reason—but your crush really grew when you became his student.

Now, almost a year and a half later, you’ve taken three more of his classes (he is a really good teacher), including your capstone class which you conveniently just turned in your final for two days ago.

You’re going to miss Professor Kempe: his accented drawl, neatly trimmed facial hair, that sexy man bun that accentuates his high cheekbones, the dark ink that peeks out from beneath his sleeves. He has genuinely become your favorite professor, but you’d be lying if you said that it’s just for his academic prowess.

It’s safe to say you have a crush on your professor. Innocent in the sense that it’s harmless, though quite the opposite could be said for the less-than-sterile thoughts you’ve had about him. It happened gradually, starting with a flush in your cheeks when he’d look at you and a familiar flutter of anticipation stepping into his classroom, until you found yourself daydreaming—fantasizing, really—about him during class, those thoughts leaking their way into your bedroom late at night.

Your heart thudding in your chest has nothing to do with the trek across campus as you approach the large brick building. Your feet take you down the familiar hallway, admiring the art on the walls and reminiscing on the countless times you’ve walked through this building before. You’ve never been to your final destination, though, the wing of offices at the far end of the building, and you read the name plates on the wall until you reach the one you’re looking for.

A. Kempe, PhD Psychology

He’s deep in the throes of an essay for his Human Sexuality class when he hears the gentle knock. Marking his place with a sticky note, he clears his throat before calling, “Come in.”

Your smile is shy as you open the door. His hair is tucked into a bun at the back of his head, though a few strands have fallen out of the hair tie. Your eyes move straight to his exposed forearms where his dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows. You do your best not to stare at the tattoos covering his right arm before clearing your throat and asking, “Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” he says, setting his pen down and looking up at you. “I always have time for you.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks. He always makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room.

“I read your paper,” he says, gesturing to the stack of papers in a folder beside him.

Your eyebrows raise. “And?”

“It was one of the best written research papers I’ve read in four years of teaching.” He says it with a small smile and a sincerity in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat. Pride swells in your chest and your lips curl up in a grin.

“Really?”

“Would you like to read the comments I wrote?”

Earnestly, you nod, and he searches through the stack of binder-clipped papers before finding yours and handing it to you. Blue ink is scrawled in the margins, various sections bracketed and underlined, and he watches you read his annotations with a tentative smile. While he waits for you to finish, he takes the opportunity to study you.

There’s been the occasional student who has caught his eye, more than a handful showing up to office hours with batted lashes and suggestions of a private tutoring session. Despite their false sense of subtlety, he knows the effect he has on some of his students. But none of them have ever truly tempted him enough to risk the potential repercussions of engaging with a student.

Until you.

You’re intelligent, with bright eyes and big thoughts. A model student, you’re organized, timely, and consistently bring constructive and thoughtful discussion to class. And, there’s the fact that you’re a 22-year-old college student, with all of her youth yet before her; he’d have to be blind to say you aren’t attractive.

And he’d have to be stupid to not want to fuck you.

He’s pretty positive you’ve been teasing him on purpose for months. Hair and makeup done for every class—when he’s seen you around the department much less done up, though still just as attractive. It’d be difficult not to notice the way your eyes linger on his for just a few moments longer after you’d ask a question or bid farewell to him after class.

And the skirts. Fuck, those damn skirts. Ever since the weather got warm enough to wear them, you’ve been prancing around in all kinds of outfits that show a distracting amount of leg. As much as he enjoys when you sit in the front row, seeing your big, inquisitive eyes gazing up at him, he curses how difficult it is to avoid staring at your skin.

You’ve been driving him mad.

And now here you are. Today, your skirt is plaid and painfully—impossibly—short. Bare legs bloom beneath the fabric that he can’t help but imagine wrapped around his waist. You’re wearing a thick knit USC cardigan, a sliver of your white tank top peeking out from where the top two buttons are undone.

“Wow,” your voice says, pulling him out of his internal reverie. His eyes flick to yours, a broad grin on your face. “Thank you, Professor Kempe. This is really… I’m glad you liked it.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies with a nod. “And you can call me Adrian.”

Adrian. You repeat his name with a smile. He likes the way it sounds coming from your mouth.

“But I don’t think you came here just to read my chicken scratch.”

You shake your head with a laugh. “I’m just dropping off some gifts for my favorite professors before I graduate. I saved the best for last.”

Adrian’s smile is feline. “I’m flattered.”

Your cheeks warm again as you hand him the gift bag, scarlet with gold and white tissue paper. The gift—a leather folio, with his name embossed in neat, gold text, and a candle that you made at a sorority sisterhood event—makes him smile.

“Thank you,” he says. “This is really generous of you.”

“I just wanted to say thank you,” you say, resting your hip against the edge of his desk. “You’ve really enriched my time in this program. Your class was easily one of my favorites that I took.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. It’s always nice to know you’re appreciated by your students.” He swears your eyes flash when he says it, like maybe you’re resisting the urge to say whatever it is that popped in your head.

You hum, unbuttoning your USC cardigan. He does his best not to stare at the exposed skin of your chest and the shadow of cleavage. Then your eyes move back to the ink on his arm. “I’ve never seen your tattoos before.”

Out of instinct, his hand moves to touch his forearm. “Oh, yeah. The dean prefers that I keep them covered up in class.”

“I think I prefer you better this way,” you say. “They suit you.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes darken just slightly at your words. There’s a brief hesitation in the air, a silent question as he debates the intention behind your statement. An innocent compliment, or something more? Paired with your choice of attire and the way your voice has dropped to a sultry sort of purr, he’s inclined to believe the latter.

It’ll be important to proceed with caution.

“You think so?” he asks.

You nod before you’re leaning over to brush at the skull with your fingertips, admiring the shading. His skin is warm beneath your touch, though you note the fine dusting of goosebumps that trail in your wake. “I like this part the best. The shading is really well done.”

Professor Kempe’s amused chuckle comes in the form of an exhaled breath. His dark eyes, so powerful, look up at you through his lashes. You can feel your heartbeat between your legs.

“Do you have any? Tattoos?”

Another nod, and you’re pulling your hand away. He feels coolness on his skin from the place where your fingers just vacated. Then, you’re letting your cardigan slip off your shoulders and he can feel his pulse leap into his throat before you angle to show him the wildflowers on your shoulder blade. “For my sisters.”

“Very sweet,” he says. “Do you have any others?”

Your smile turns coy and he can see in your eyes that you’re hurtling towards an invisible line in the sand, with no sign of stopping. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I won’t make fun of you. I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” you say, holding out your pinky. It’s silly, a college senior just days away from crossing the stage and graduating, asking her professor for a pinky promise, but he finds himself wrapping his own pinky around yours anyways.

You step around the desk, coming to stand beside his chair until you’re within arm’s length. Turning around, you lean forward slightly and he has to use every ounce of self-control in his body to not look at the fluttering hem of your skirt.

And then you lift your cardigan and he nearly chokes on his own breath when you reveal the tender skin just above the waistband of your skirt. A simple butterfly floats there, and he lets his eyes trace over the details of the wings.

“I got it when I was eighteen,” you explain. “Freshman year. A bunch of us from my dorm went during welcome week.”

Professor Kempe hums and you turn back to face him, feeling the heat from his gaze still burning into your back. “Do you have any others?”

He clears his throat. “This—this is a full sleeve,” he says, gesturing up his arm.

“All the way up here?” you ask, feeling bold enough to trail your finger up his bicep to his shoulder. His eyes are practically black, like pools of molten lava. He glances at the door to his office, which you’ve left partially open. Following his gaze, you say with a quiet whisper, “I can be quick.”

He stands then, rising to his full height, and your heart flutters in your chest at the way he towers over you. Stepping away from you, he walks toward the door and your heart sinks, preparing yourself to be ridiculed and ordered out. Hot shame washes over you.

This was foolish, you think. And stupid. What if he reported you? What if you got expelled before you had a chance to graduate?

But then you hear the door close. And lock. Your head shoots up, looking at him as he turns back around to face you. He’s back in front of you in a few short strides, his voice low as he murmurs, “I don’t want to be quick.”

He doesn’t give you time to moan at his words before he’s surging forward to capture your lips in a heated kiss. It catches you by surprise, but he isn’t deterred, and it only takes you a beat before you’re kissing him back, pressing your body into his. His lips are soft despite the harsh intensity of his kiss, teeth grazing over your lips and seeking entrance to your mouth with his tongue.

You allow him in, and his hands find purchase on your hips, tugging you closer to him as he kisses you deeper. The kiss is desperate, almost frantic, like you both need to make up for lost time. His frame is tall over yours, caged between his body and his desk. When he feels you meet the resistance of the wood surface, his hands lift you onto it. Without a second thought, your legs spread for him and he steps between them.

A hand reaches up to support the back of your neck while his mouth moves along your jawline, over the pulse point behind your ear, down your neck. A moan slips out when he bites down on the tender skin, the sensation enough to make your toes curl.

“Professor,” you sigh, and he groans deeply into your neck. He likes the way you call him that.

You shrug off your cardigan, exposing more skin in the hopes that his lips will explore more of your body. He does, mouthing his way over your collarbones, sucking bruising marks along his path. Behind you, his free arm swipes at the stack of papers and his planning book, sending them crashing to the floor. Between the pressure of his kisses and the gentle guidance of his hand on your back, he eases you down until you’re lying across the surface of his desk.

Before he can pull away, you tug at the hem of his sweater vest, pulling the material up his torso. You need to see, feel, touch more of him. Painstakingly, he tears his own hands away from you to lift his arms over his head and allow you to pull the knit garment off his frame. A worn, white button up is all that’s left, and you realize you’ve never had such a thin layer of fabric between you and him.

The way your hands run up his body is sinful, your touch hot through the thin material. He resists the urge to shiver, instead channeling his energy at drawing his own heated caress up the bare legs he’s been doing his best not to stare at since you walked in his office. They’re soft, sinfully sexy, and he feels like he’s drunk as his hand moves up underneath your plaid skirt, meeting the delicious handful of ass that waits for him there—God, how long he's dreamt about your ass.

The action elicits a delicious moan from your pretty throat, and he can’t help but repeat it, massaging the flesh with a large hand. Your spine arches into his body, every nerve seeking out more; your senses are on fire, adrenaline coursing through you in your forbidden tryst with your professor.

Large hands tug your hips toward the edge of the desk, the apex of your thighs bumping directly against the tent in his khakis. It’s embarrassing how loud your moan is just from the gentle brush against your center, but Professor Kempe’s fingers tighten their grip on your waist. You can feel the way his lips curl up into a smile against yours, his hot breath fanning across your face. “Been thinking about this for a long time.”

It’s your turn to smile, your laugh exhaling into his mouth. You let your hips roll, grinding yourself against him. “Yeah?”

A purr sounds from his throat, his strong hand gripping your hip to cease your movements. He pulls away to give you a silent reprimand, an expression which you can’t help but innocently shrug at. His reply is to trail wet, sloppy kisses down your neck, chest, all the way to the patch of skin between your tank top and your skirt.

He hears the way your breath hitches, smiling to himself before glancing up at you from between your legs. When he finally does push up the hem of your skirt, you let out a full laugh when he freezes.

Adrian was expecting to see white lace, maybe a red g-string if he was lucky, but instead he finds himself face to face with a bare, naked, dripping pussy. And fuck, if it doesn’t look like the most appetizing dessert he’s ever had.

“Fuck.” He leans forward, dragging wet kisses along the inside of your thigh. Your breath catches in your throat, pussy throbbing at his proximity to where you want him most.

“You don’t have to—” you start, but he interrupts you.

“You can’t expect me not to eat this cunt after all those times you ‘forgot’ to wear panties to class.” His voice is stern and his words draw more heat to your cheeks, called out for your antics.

“I just wanted to get your attention.”

Hot breath teases your center, making you shiver. Your back arches off of the desk, desperate for something—anything. From between your thighs, two brown eyes peer up at you. The desire inside them is molten, and you have to actively resist the urge to melt.

“You have it.”

Though you didn’t notice anyone else in their office, you aren’t confident in the wall’s ability to muffle any sound, so you’re quick to slap a hand over your mouth when you cry out after feeling his warm tongue swiping up your center. He’s tentative at first, but it doesn’t take him long before he’s tongue-deep, moaning at the taste of you.

When you thought about this before—because you definitely had—of course you imagined he’d be incredible at oral sex. But realistically, you knew, he was a straight, white man and the odds were low that he would blow your mind with that gorgeous mouth of his.

You’ve never been more wrong. He eats you indulgently, like you’re a five-star, award-winning dessert at a Michelin restaurant in the swankiest part of Los Angeles. It’s sinful, the way his mouth licks and kisses and sucks—no, slurps—at your essence*. The shaggy hair of his beard scratches deliciously against your most sensitive area, combining with the soft, smooth movements of his tongue to have you grasping frantically for the edge of the desk.

It doesn’t take long before you’re gushing against his face, cries muffled by your own knuckles between your teeth to stifle the sound of your orgasm. You’re sweeter than he expected, like a deliciously sweet treat from the ice cream truck on a hot summer day, melting underneath his touch just like a popsicle.

Professor Kempe rises to his full height, his chin glistening with your nectar, and you have to swallow your moan at the sight. You sit up and slide off of the desk, moving to standing in front of him. Molten eyes look down at you, and you press your palm against his zipper, watching the flames flicker in his irises.

“You want it?” he asks. “Student hot for professor.”

Pressing up on your toes, your tongue sticks out and you lick up the juices on his chin on your way to his lips. Your tongues meld together, sharing the taste of your orgasm in a searing kiss. His breath catches in his throat when you give him a squeeze, rubbing your palm over the length of him. “Seems like professor might be hot for student, too.”

Adrian’s dick twitches at your quick wit and he watches you sink to your knees, admiring you from this angle just as much as he admired you from between your thighs. He helps you undo his belt and zipper, twitching when you pull him out of his chinos.

He’s just as big as you imagined—big dick energy is real—and your mouth waters as your eyes trail over his length. Even his cock is pretty: smooth skin, a thick vein along the underside, and a pretty, flushed shade of mauve at the weeping tip. Your hand strokes him, feeling him beneath your fingertips, and you glance back up at him, already watching you intently.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” you say, putting his words back at him. “Thought about failing an exam just so I’d have to beg you to give me a better grade.”

He smirks down at you. “You know, I haven’t put your final grade in the system yet.”

Your tongue swipes up the base of his shaft and you blink at him with his tip pressed against your pouted lips. “Please, Professor, I need to pass this class to graduate.”

Once your mouth is on him, he curses every missed opportunity he didn’t take to make it happen earlier—could’ve been doing this for years. He should’ve known you’d be good at this given how you’ve been eye fucking him for a year and a half, but he still chokes out in surprise at the way he disappears past your lips. Your tongue, wet and warm, strokes along the bottom while your cheeks hollow.

He relishes in the feeling of your mouth, the tightness of your throat when you take him deeper—fuck, so tight—wondering to himself how the way your throat contracts around him compares to the way your cunt will feel wrapped around him. At the thought, a burning need in his gut has him stopping you and tugging you to your feet. He needs to be inside you. Now.

Adrian helps you to remove your tank top and your bra, pausing for him to grasp each breast in his hands, massaging them. While he steps back to undo the buttons on his own shirt, your hands move to the zipper of your skirt.

“Leave it,” he commands, his eyes flicking up to yours with a feline smile. “Teased me for long enough with this fucking thing.”

“Me?”

Professor Kempe gives you a knowing look. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Why you never wear anything underneath these short, slutty skirts? You’ve been hoping I’ll bend you over the desk and take you right there after class.”

Well. He’s not wrong, you think, shrugging innocently, but your snarky retort dies in your throat when he reaches the last button on his dress shirt, shrugging it off. Adrian smirks at the way you gape at him, your eyes running over the cut of his muscles, up the black ink that dances up to his shoulder.

Your pussy throbs with need. So much that you’re backing up to the desk, lying against it and spreading your legs in a silent invitation. He looks down at you from between your legs.

And then he purses his lips and drops a wad of saliva right onto the apex of your thighs. He watches the way his spit drips into your already wet folds, melding with your juices. You moan at the feeling.

“Flip over, baby,” he murmurs his command.

A low purr sounds in your chest and he watches as you do as he asked, pressing your hips backwards until your ass backs up against his length. Your hips swivel and roll, earning a groan from him. If you had more time, he’d let you give him an entire lap dance, make you ride him until your legs are jelly and his balls are empty.

But he doesn’t. You’re already on borrowed time, both with your looming graduation and the very less-than-private venue for your rendezvous. So he flips up your skirt, bunching the plaid fabric around your hips, exposing your ass and bare, dripping pussy, just waiting to be fucked.

When he slides into you, a breath shudders from him and your eyes flutter blissfully shut. Your delectable heat wraps around him snugly, nearly taking his breath away. Fuck, he knew your pussy would be perfect.

His hips begin to move, pressing deeper into you. He watches you bite your lip at the way he stretches you so deliciously, wanting you to feel every single inch of him buried in your cunt. If this is the only time he'll ever have you, he wants you to remember what he feels like inside of you.

“Fuck, Professor,” you whisper, fingers digging into the edge of the desk. The heat of him alone makes it infinitely better than you imagined all those late nights beneath your sheets, not to mention the sinful press of his hips against your ass and his firm grip on your waist and the low, ragged sound of his breath. He's pressed so fucking deep, filling you to a capacity you didn't know was possible. Why did you wait so long to do this again?

Professor Kempe pulls you back against him, punching his length into you sharply. The jab sends a wave of pleasure down your spine, your pussy already alight with his touch. It’s sinful, wrong, and so, so right.

The fire inside your belly roars, the bundle of nerves between your legs burning with pleasure with each thrust of his hips. Professor Kempe fucks you with a ravenous energy, the kind that tells you neither you or your pussy would survive a full night with him. He’s responsive, in tune with each moan and throb of your walls around him, like he’s speed-reading the manual to make you see stars.

“Taking it like a perfect little slut,” he grunts. “Just like I knew you would. You know how many students have tried to get me to do this before?”

A smile forms on your lips. “Are you saying I'm your first, Professor?”

“First student to be so tempting and delicious I can't help but take you over this desk,” he says with a low growl.

Large hands grip at your shoulders, tugging you backwards until your back is pressed against his warm, muscular chest. The angle draws him even deeper, until the tip of him is pressed directly against the spot that has your vision going blurry. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. Between his relentless rhythm and his sultry praise, your impending release nears its boiling point.

It’s the lilting of your voice, steadily rising in pitch, that makes his balls tighten. You’re close, and he knows he won’t last through an orgasm, not with how long he's wanted this, not with fucking tight you are, gripping onto his dick like a vice. His voice drops an octave. “Not gonna last.”

A jumble of words leaves your mouth in a breathless sigh, but he has no idea what you said; all he knows is your hand reaches for his, tugging it toward the place where you two connect. When his knuckle brushes against your clit and you squeeze him, he knows what you’re asking for.

Professor Kempe’s thumb rubs steady, knowing circles, sending you hurtling to the edge, but it’s his low command that pushes you over it.

“Gush on it and I’ll give you an A.”

The world in front of you disappears, the only thing you know being the pleasure radiating through you as Professor Kempe fucks you through an earth-shattering orgasm. All at once, your legs are shaking, his hand clapped over your mouth and his roar of ecstasy is loud in your ear as you feel the hot pulse of him inside of you.

You’re not sure how long it takes for you to come to, his office fuzzy as it comes back into clearer view. He’s panting, breath hot against your shoulder, and you are too, your heart thudding rapidly in your chest. Your skin tingles where his touches you, the feeling remaining even after he pulls away. Gingerly, he pulls out of you, and he watches his cum seep out of your spent, used pussy—and damn, if it doesn’t make him want to fuck you again.

But you’re sliding off of his desk onto shaky legs, retrieving your clothes and putting them back on. There’s a slight awkwardness in the air, the guilt and shame of what did we just do sinking in. For a moment, Adrian panics—he could get fired for this.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” you say, like you can read his mind. He wonders if the worry shows on his face. “Our little secret.”

Adrian knows—he knows—he shouldn’t feel disappointed, but he does. You’re graduating, leaving USC in just a few short days, and it’s highly probable that he’ll never see you again unless it’s in a published journal or some Psychology Today article online. He musters up a smile anyways.

“Our little secret.”

Once both of you are clothed, you gather your things and make to leave. Adrian clears his throat. “I’ll have your final grade in the system tomorrow.”

You smile. “Thank you, Professor Kempe.”

By the door, you pause, turning to look at him like you want to say something. He’s still standing beside his desk, papers scattered on the floor. “I forgot to tell you—I got accepted into the Cal State program. I'm staying in Los Angeles.”

#adrian kempe fic #hockey fic #nhl fic #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #hockey writing #nhl writing #divider by @cafekitsune

41 notes · View notes

rafestar · 2 years ago

Text

WICKED GAMES | Drew Starkey

WARNINGS: +18 smut, extreme domination, crawling, public sex, unprotected sex, dirty talking, name calling…

"You are coming?" Madelyn asked.

We just got off the Outer Banks premiere, which was a hit.

"No, we're fine" Drew replied giving the others a smile.

"Come on man, you're gonna miss one of our best parties," Austin gloated.

"Exactly," Madelyn added.

Drew gave me a look, which I fully understand, so it was my turn to get us out of here. "Really guys, I think I'm feeling a bit sick."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Madelyn hugged me. “We will send pics and videos”

“It’s okay, enjoy”

The guys started bragging our names as Drew and I got into his car. We could go in a limo, but we wanted peace and to be alone.

We both like this, we like our jobs, but at the end, it ends up being exhausting.

The paparazzi are soon pulling out their cameras and pointing at us as Drew drives out.

When we're finally clear of the entire crowd, Drew snaps me out of my trance by placing a hand on my inner thigh.

"How do you feel?" He asks.

"Happy, really. I missed being all together."

Drew smiles, he has seen me happy, and that makes him happy. “I think the same, but now… We have time for ourselves”

He massages my thigh as I feel my core blossom. He knows how to get me horny with just words, that's his magic.

"Mr. Starkey? Are you trying to get me wet while you drive?"

His fingers move up my thigh until they touch my underwear. "It's not my fault you're wet already"

My cheeks blush at his words. "Nasty, very"

"That's how you love me" Drew looks at me for a second with his mischievous smile before looking back at the road.

We continue our journey to our apartment in Los Angeles.

We have been together for approximately two years, and a year ago we made the decision to live together.

That has turned into wonderful morning sex, sex before nap, sex after, sex in the shower, in the bathtub too, and exciting night sex.

That's what happens when you put two hot asses together. But proud of it.

We arrived, and greeted the doorman innocently. We move to the elevator, and Drew immediately pounces on me.

He grabs me by the thighs as his lips sweeten with mine. Our scents of alcohol and cigs, along with a sweet touch of both, create that explosion that makes me melt.

He holds me tight against the elevator wall and I can feel the hardness of him against my thigh, I shift a little and that's when I feel him in my core. A guttural moan scrapes from my throat, but melts between kisses.

"You're a whore, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," I gasped.

"So say it, say you're my whore"

Drew's wet kisses trail down to the exposed skin of my neck, taking little bites and licks.

"I am, I'm your whore"

The "ding" sound of the elevator, causes us to stop our actions, but Drew doesn't put me down, instead, he hoists me onto his shoulder and heads to our door.

I am thankful that there was no neighbor.

Drew opens the door and sets me down as we enter. After closing it, he turns licking his lower lip towards me.

I slowly start to remove my heels but before I can, Drew stops me. "No, take off everything except your heels"

I let out a tremendous sigh at his demand. “Drew, my feet are killing me and…”

"I didn’t ask"

"But…"

"I said, take off everything except your heels"

I knew that it was no use for me to fight, so I obeyed. Gently, I lower the straps of my dress, which was tight, so my breasts bounce a little when i released it.

Drew follows all my movements with his gaze and I see how his pupils dilate when they stop on my breasts. I like to see how he wants me, he is an expert in demonstrating it with just his eyes.

My dress finally falls to the floor, and I take a small step to get completely out of it.

I stand still in front of him, just inches away.

"That too" he raises his head a little, looking at my underwear.

My fingers hook into the fine lace fabric, and I seductively slide it down my legs.

Drew moves closer to me, and my nipples brush against his expensive suit.

I'm not going to lie, it intimidates me, and at the same time turns me on, the fact of being completely naked in front of him, while he is wearing all his clothes. He makes me feel innocent, although not that much, but just available to him to do whatever he wants with me.

Dropping my eyes, I cringed, flinching surprisingly when his hand gripped my jaw from below and lifted my head so our tones were forced to meet.

"Get on your knees." I complied without him having to tell me twice.

What surprised me was how he began to walk away from me to the balcony. He opened the curtain and the moonlight didn't take long to hit my pupils.

He stepped out into the night and leaned against the metal railing. "Crawl for me"

"Sorry?" I said, ironically.

Drew crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows.

"Didn't you hear?"

“Of course I heard,” I snapped, “but what do you think I'm for…”

"If I remember correctly," he spoke gracefully, "you made it very clear to me that you were a whore."

My eyes widened in shock.

"Specifically, my whore"

I remained blank for a few seconds. Not know what to do. Should i..?

"So like the good whore that you are, get your ass over here and let me fuck you how I want."

His harsh, cold tone sent a chill down my spine, but I had no choice but to obey.

My hands touched the cold wood of the apartment, and just like that, I started to move.

Deftly I started forward, moving my hips from side to side every time my legs took a step. I walked out of the room and smiled in amusement when I heard Drew swear under his breath. I could feel his gaze on me.

Drew radiated with lust.

He helped me to my feet before turning quickly in a fury towards the railing. The cold metal crashed against my hips.

Looking outside, I felt intimidated by the fact that someone would see us.

Drew brushed against me, “do you feel it? do you feel what you do to me?”

His hand pressed against my neck and the hardness of him felt big and erect, and I couldn't help but grind my hips into him. He cursed in my ear, and his hot breath raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

His tongue moistened my lobe and while still holding my neck, his other hand came down to my privacy, rubbing slowly on my clit while he silently opened his mouth.

Two of his fingers entered me and I couldn't help but squirm and arch my back.

Drew's knee came between his legs, spreading them further apart as his hand stroked hard up to my clit, rubbing it with inordinate force.

My head fell back, letting my hair fall down my back as my mouth dropped open. "Shit, shit, shit…"

My words matched each of his blows and when I thought he was about to make me release. He stopped.

I could barely breathe. My teeth were chattering and I felt a huge emptiness as Drew pulled his fingers from me.

I started to feel frustrated. I liked the games. I could put up with Drew wanting to have fun with me. But there was a certain point where I couldn't stand it.

My core ached more than usual from holding in my orgasm.

Tears began to flow down my cheeks, and an unexpected cry came from me when I felt his cold hand against my ass.

My chest tightened and I turned my head over my shoulder, watching Drew begin to unbutton his pants. Playfully, I pulled my hips back even further, letting his hand brush the skin of my thighs.

He smiled, and when he lowered his boxers I could feel the length of his slam against me.

Drew stepped closer, and in one smooth motion he put his hand in front of me, opening my mouth as he inserted two fingers into it.

I felt my eyes mist over but I looked at him.

My arousal increasing by the second.

"Spit, love," he commanded, sliding his fingers out of my mouth.

I did, leaving his fingers soaked. Drew lowered her hand to her length, pumping and lubricating her as he slid it between my cheeks.

I gasped as he began to insert it, in a manner so slow, it caused all my senses to fall apart in seconds. The waiting made me want him even more and I knew it was killing me.

Our bodies came together. Drew gasped in my ear and pulled away from me. I felt my body yearn for him and just when I thought he was going to leave me, he hit me again.

His fingers dug into my hips, pulling with momentum so he could thrust harder. The sound of our bodies colliding made my pleasure spread.

The blow of his skin against my clit made me moan even more.

I moved my hips and there was a minute our blows met, making us both gasp as my walls pressed against him.

I could barely brace my hands against the railing, and I gathered my strength to keep my knees from buckled as Drew pushed against me, my belly colliding with the metal in burning pain.

“Damn, Y/N…” he growled, bringing his hands up to my waist to lower my body against his.

For a split second, my eyes snapped open, and I could see a man looking out of his window.

"Drew…"

"Let him, let him look"

I contracted with his words.

"After all, everyone can look, but i’m the only one who gets to touch you”

His blows were harder and my moans bounced off the streets of Los Angeles.

My hand tightened against the railing and Drew tugged at my hair. We were both at our limit.

"Let me cum inside you" he moaned. "Let me put a fucking child inside you"

I wasn't able to vocalize words, so I shook my head in a quick nod.

His hand went down to my clit, rubbing in frustration. Drew contracted inside me and my walls did the same, until I felt it.

His thrusts slowed down and were just tired blows, and yet, they managed to make me reach my peak.

Arousal coursed through my veins, and I felt my legs wobble.

Drew grabbed me on my knees bridal style, and led me to our bed. He gently lowered me to the sheets.

"Wait here," he said.

Exhaustion and sweat emerged from my insides. I felt our fluids together crying down my legs, and I loved the feeling.

Soon, Drew came back and grabbed me again leading us to the bathroom. Next to him, we both stretched out in the bubble-filled tub. The warmth of the water relaxed my muscles, and Drew began massaging me.

"I'm sorry if I've been harsh"

"It’s okay, I liked it" my cheeks flush red when I turn my neck to look at him.

I give him a kiss on his full lips, "I love you"

"I love you more"

♡

1K notes · View notes

gluion · 1 year ago

Text

[part one] the perfect pair ➵ “ew, is that sunwoo over there? 저리 꺼져.”

esports player!kim sunwoo x esports player!reader

being a woman in the esports league is hard, but dealing with cocky kim sunwoo is unmatched. with the valorant champions tour about to commence, you two are forced to team up to retrieve the trophy. what will be tested—team morale or your patience around sunwoo?

chapter genre/warnings ➵ enemies to lovers, afab reader (they/them pronouns), slow burn, slight angst, crack, sexual tension, misogynistic & sexist remarks and behaviors, sunwoo is such an annoying teammate... retired ow player now val player…, rush gets introduced YIPPEE, sunwoo gets jealous...?, bets are made, a lot of gamer lingo (check the guide & visual aids!)

word count ➵ 10.5k words

parts ➵ check out the series masterlist

a/n ➵ it's out! felt a lil pressured by the number of notes i wont lie! i hope u guys enjoy this along with the visual aid <3 special shoutout to @shegotthewoobies @vernyangel @heemingyu @deobienthusiast for beta reading <3 much love to you all <3 esp to ki who made the usernames <3 if you enjoyed reading, do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

HYST wins VCT’s Game Changers By Bae Sumin

HYST takes the title as the winner of the Valorant Championship Tour (VCT) Game Changers in Los Angeles, USA against defending champion 88RR. The team took over the playing field, showcasing their astounding teamwork and tactful gameplays, and won 3-1 in a best-of-five series.

Since the first match on Bind, players Ailurus (Y/N) and bokku (Miyawaki Sakura) demonstrated their chemistry through their formidable performance as Omen and Yoru respectively. Their alliance was enough for their opponents to avoid one-on-one battles.

Rising player Ppiya (Hong Eunchae) secures her position as one of the most impressive duelists to come from this year’s VCT. In all of the matches played, Ppiya secures at least one kill per round, placing her 3rd in the leaderboards out of all players in the event.

In their second match on Ascent, remarkable sentinel players CHUU (Kim Jiwoo) and subakhye (Son Hyeju) built solid defense systems and dealt with flanks with ease. They can adjust their setups accordingly as they observe their opponents’ playstyle.

Although their exceptional performance in Game Changers makes its mark in VCT history, Ailurus only hopes that they are given more opportunities to engage in such tournaments. “I am happy [about our win], but I hope that the [VALORANT] esports scene sees us more than just winners [of Game Changers]. I want to be seen as a remarkable player regardless of gender,” they share.

Despite HYST participating in VCT for the past two years, this is their first championship win. In last year’s VCT, the organization met its defeat in VALORANT Challengers through their other roster consisting of players bae (Jacob Bae), nuguri (Kim Sunwoo), Darong (Lee Jaehyun), gyulz (Ju Haknyeon), and Maize (Lee Juyeon).

Both teams are under the guidance of Coach bori (Kim Younghoon), a retired VALORANT and League of Legends pro player.

These turn of events displayed HYST’s dedication to improvement and VALORANT. Many followers hope to see more of the reigning champions of Game Changers.

ROUND 1: “WELCOME TO MY WORLD!”

The moon radiates tonight, its white gleam accompanied by speckles amidst the sea of black. Now would be the perfect moment to take some time to yourself; get in more hours of sleep, or pick up a book you’ve been putting off. Instead…

“Hi, everyone! It’s been a while,” you greet your viewers through the webcam.

The monitor shines on you, colors of blue and violet painting your skin. On the wall behind you is a shelf filled with memorabilia; medals from small competitions along with trophies from bigger tournaments.

“I know it’s a little late here, but I was itching to play some matches.” Your eyes glide through your stream’s chat. Many viewers are ecstatic to have you back on Twitch while others question your late hours of streaming.

jseollie: even after game changers?? CRAZY! bboppull: GRIND NEVER STOPS 💪💪💪 bookeucutie: tell us abt vct!!!

A chuckle leaves you as you open up Valorant. “I really enjoyed my time in VCT! I met some of my favorite players like Lorri from Evil Genius, sonder from Shopify, even Version1’s MeL.”

You lean back on your chair as you recall the event. “I won’t lie, I was very nervous about going against 88RR, which, by the way, is a lovely team. We met up for drinks after.” You scratch the back of your neck as you try to go through what your chat says.

“I remember talking to Kura about it since the semifinals, and she had to give me a constant pep talk.” The memory of Sakura knocking sense into you after every match makes you laugh.

As you dish to your viewers about your experience throughout Game Changers, you read their comments. Many of your viewers were happy with your revelation of the teams' bonds with each other. “Yeah, we’re competitive but we’re here with the same dreams, so I think it did help us form some kind of connection. I was able to exchange contacts with Sunmi and Taeyeon as well. I told them that whenever they decide to come back to Korea, they should give me a call.”

ajiajibee: is the trophy with you? ghanadara: i think it’s beside the picture frame

“Oh, I don’t get to keep it. It’s back in the headquarters,” you say as you slightly swivel your chair to the side. “That picture frame, however,” you point at your shelf, “is my certificate. That way, we all have something to bring home.”

You adjust your chair before smiling at the camera. “Anyway, I’m really happy that our practice paid off. It was an honor to even participate and meet other players.”

Most of the reactions were positive ones; congratulations and desires to see your team play together for more events. Yet, regardless of your achievements, there’s constantly a handful of negative ones.

hwithefool: Cant believe you won game changers. Ur not even that good. hwithefool: didn’t even get to champs L honeycube: boosted ass universefactory deleted hwithefool’s message. universefactory deleted hwithefool’s message. universefactory deleted honeycube’s message. hwithefool is now banned from this chat. Reason: Being rude honeycube is now banned from this chat. Reason: Being rude

Thankfully, your moderators were there to take control of such—but you’ll always know what people think of you.

“Anyway, for today’s stream, I’ll be playing with Juhak and Hyeju!” You exclaim as you switch scenes, now showing the Valorant lobby. “We’re going to play on our alt accounts for today, so it should be fun.”

real_juhaknyeon: LFGGGGG goated team rubyvobo: we get nom, jeorge porkwell, AND hyejuseyo?? We win today sunwooluver: what about nuguri?? he’s solo queuing right now rubyvobo: OFHEJSHSJJSKS I LOVE YOU GUYS sunwooluver: WILL NUGURI JOIN??

One of the few perks that comes with being an established streamer is that you could ignore comments, pretending you never saw them, and you’d get away with it; people just didn’t need to talk about it all together and you’d be fine.

So when you invite Haknyeon and Hyeju to your party, you continue talking to your chat about today’s stream. “We’re not going to play ranked today, I think?” You hum for a moment, going through the agenda in your head. “Well, we might, but I have no clue. It depends on what they want.”

Before you can continue with your rambles, your phone vibrates on your desk. Once you grab it, you notice that text messages from Kim Younghoon, the coach of the organization, have come your way.

coach bbang 🍞: hi y/n! don’t forget to remind your teammates about tomorrow’s meeting for vct ☺️ coach bbang 🍞: and gl with your stream tonight! y/n: teewai coach :DD see u tomo

“Sorry about that!” You put your phone away and give your full attention to your monitor. Hyeju and Haknyeon already joined your party, and you spot that they’re in a voice channel on the HYST’s Discord server. “Before I go join VC with the others, I just wanted to say thank you for supporting me and the others in Game Changers. It was a fun but tough competition, and I wouldn’t be here without you guys.”

Although your job did start as a hobby, you continued to persevere through such hardships thanks to your support systems; your teammates and viewers alike. You only ever considered going pro thanks to two friends. Unfortunately, time has its way of making you drift apart from them; you hope you can go face-to-face against them one day if the universe willed for it.

“Anyway, let’s have some good games!”

“I tuned in to your stream last night, Y/N,” Eunchae starts. “That losing streak is insane.”

You sigh, shoulders down as you walk dejectedly. “Don’t even get me started. Our randos were ass and wouldn’t stop talking shit.” You look at your younger friend who only pouts as you recap the events of last night. “I know you would always enter and clear sites for us, my Manchae.”

With your arm wrapped around her shoulder, her expression shifts into a smile. “I mean, that’s the least I can do as your duelist.”

“Well, not everyone seems to know that.”

The HYST headquarters is a three-story infrastructure whose interior resembles corporate buildings; the furniture is mostly of sleek leather and dark-stained wood. Monotone linoleum tiles and off-white walls stretch throughout the building.

As soon as you both arrive in front of the meeting room, you swing the doors open, revealing Sakura, Hyeju, and Jiwoo who sit together on one side of the conference table. You and Eunchae rush to them, exchanging greetings and embraces.

“Do you always play Valorant?” Jiwoo directs the question to you, referencing your stream last night with Hyeju and Haknyeon, to which you roll your eyes.

“No, I just had the itch to play!” You take a seat in between Sakura and Jiwoo. “Plus, I’ll take any opportunity to make some money.”

The doors swing open. “Hi, everyone. It’s nice to see you all,” Younghoon greets your team before walking to the whiteboard situated in the corner of the room.

The organization’s general manager, Lee Sangyeon, trails behind him, a smile painting his face as he takes a seat at the end of the table. “I’ll say this again, but good work in Game Changers.”

“Thanks, Sangyeon,” Sakura expresses her gratitude on behalf of the team. “We wouldn’t have been able to win without your help along with Younghoon’s.”

He shakes his head, trying to play it off. “No, I’m just here to make sure you guys get to participate, you know? Just want to make sure that you guys get recognized.”

Silence settles. The squeaking from Younghoon's marker is faint but loud enough to capture your attention. Although his figure covers most of what’s written on the whiteboard, you catch sight of a few gamer tags—Ailurus and bae.

Before you can decipher the other words, the doors open. “Hi, guys!” Haknyeon enters the room with all smiles. “Hello Game Changers winners,” he bows his head, making you chuckle.

His teammates, Jacob and Juyeon, trail behind him, relaxed expressions resting on their faces. “Congrats on the win,” Jacob shakes hands with everyone on your team. “That one play on Ascent went crazy, by the way.” His praise is directed towards you, and you try to play it cool.

“Ah, it was nothing. Just got lucky.”

“If I was in your situation, I probably wouldn’t have secured that round,” Juyeon chimes in as he takes a seat beside his teammates. The three boys sit across from your team.

Haknyeon smacks Juyeon’s arm, laughing at his words. “Yeah! Remember that one round in Breeze?” Juyeon only rolls his eyes while his teammates recap the events for your team.

You don’t really interact with Haknyeon’s team (or Jacob’s team if you were going to follow formalities), just the occasional greetings and small talk if you were going to be honest. It’s not like you didn’t want to be friends with them; there aren't enough opportunities to bond when you all have different schedules, let alone priorities. But you did enjoy their team's presence, and every interaction with them is one you hope may bring your team closer to theirs.

Except for one player.

“Sorry, we’re late!” Hyunjae enters the room with an apologetic smile. “Someone decided to sleep in.”

“Not true! Hyunjae’s lying.”

The room starts to grow dimmer, almost as if life were sucked out of it. Only you seemed to see it, never the others. There he is—the only exception.

He’s dressed in an oversized graphic tee layered on top of a white long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black baggy jeans. His hair shows its soft curls, clearly indicating that he’s the one lying.

A playful pout rests on his lips as he tries to continue his defense. Yet, when he locks eyes with you, he holds back. A scowl now paints his face.

If you follow esports, then you would know who Kim Sunwoo is—an established pro player who switched from Overwatch to Valorant. At first, many people were confused by his choice, throwing away years invested into a different game. Yet, it seemed that he didn’t care about what others had to say as he signed with HYST a few months after he started playing Valorant.

Within that time frame, he was able to impress Younghoon and Sangyeon with his gameplay. After all, Valorant and Overwatch required different playstyles. It was easy for him to become big in the Valorant pro scene, as you would like to say, for he made use of his existing fame.

He’s adored by many people who follow the pro scene; audience and players alike. You, however, seemed to think differently.

You shift your gaze to Younghoon, silently hoping that the meeting will commence. As if he heard your thoughts, he says, “No worries. Go, take your seats.”

Unfortunately, Hyunjae opts to sit across from Eunchae, leaving one vacant seat across from you.

Sunwoo sits on the chair as a dejected sigh leaves him, causing you to roll your eyes while you keep your gaze away from him. All you need to do is get through the meeting and you won’t have to face him for a while.

“Thank you everyone for coming here today,” Younghoon starts as he faces all of you. The whiteboard behind him has now been flipped, and the gamer tags are now hidden. “Uh, before we get into the agenda for today’s meeting, let’s congratulate the winners of Game Changers!”

Applause erupts from everyone who didn’t participate in that competition, but your eyes don’t miss how slow the boy across you claps, almost as if he wasn’t impressed.

“Now, we can get to the point of today’s meeting.” Younghoon steps to the side, revealing the text written—VCT GAMEPLAN with irregular shapes surrounding it. “We all know that VCT is around the corner, a few months from now, which means we’ve got to start our preparations.”

“Normally, we would’ve gone straight to strategizing and having you guys,” your coach looks at the team across you, “practice, but Sangyeon and I have agreed on doing things differently this year.” He flips the board, revealing everyone’s gamer tags. “We’re changing the roster.”

Many players are caught off-guard by Younghoon’s announcement. It’s not usual for a roster change to take place, especially with only a few months left before qualifiers commence.

“We know that not everyone may want to participate in the upcoming VCT, and I’ve spent weeks trying to configure what’s the best roster to represent HYST.” Younghoon then pulls out a blue marker and starts to circle some names; CHUU, Darong, bae, nuguri, and… Ailurus? “These are my picks for VCT.”

A frown appears on your face, but before you can comment, Haknyeon beats you to it. “I don’t know if having Hyunjae and Sunwoo play together is smart.” All eyes are now on him. “I mean, no offense,” his eyes flicker to the two subjects, “I don’t know if Jiwoo and Y/N would be able to keep up, and that’s not a diss to them.”

“I agree,” Jacob chimes in. “Haknyeonie, Juyeon, and I can play with Sunwoo and Hyunjae as duelists because we know their playstyles well. We’ve played together for years. Y/N and Jiwoo would be playing with them for the first time.”

Younghoon bites the inside of his cheek, deep in thought as he considers what’s been said. “Thoughts?” He directs his question to the two people in question. The two players exchange glances, almost as if they were communicating.

“Yeah, I know Sunwoo and I can adjust our playstyle but it took more than half a year for Juyeon and Haknyeon to get used to our playstyle,” Hyunjae says as he scratches the back of his neck. “And if it helps, I’d prefer to sit this one out. You know, I have a lot of sponsorships lined up that I need to stream for also.”

Your coach sighs. “No worries. What about you, Sunwoo?”

“Wait, can I say something?” Jiwoo gathers the attention of everyone in the room. “I also want to opt out of VCT. I mean, I just played in Game Changers.” A guilty smile takes over her features.

Thankfully, Younghoon acknowledges where Jiwoo comes from. “Of course, I understand. After all, that’s why we're having this meeting.”

Before your coach can try to reconfigure the roster, Sangyeon stands up from his seat.

“Can I suggest another rotation?” Younghoon nods before handing him a red marker. Sangyeon starts to circle another list of gamer tags, ones he believes should be in the final line-up of players for VCT; it consists of bokku, bae, gyulz, Ppiya, and… Ailurus, again? Your coach frowns as he looks at the selection.

“I think Sunwoo should be benched.” Your eyebrows shoot up at Sangyeon’s words, not expecting those words considering the player’s reputation.“He’s made some rash plays recently, and you know that.” You glance at the boy who sits across from you only to see that his gaze is affixed to the ground.

Younghoon shakes his head, clearly in disbelief at the manager’s words. “Yes, but that’s only for a few matches. Trust me when I say that Sunwoo is strong as a duelist and an initiator.” His attempt to defend his mentee is weak against Sangyeon’s opinion.

“He plays for himself!”

Clearly, the two higher-ups have opposing views.

“Think about it; Eunchae and Sakura are great duelists, and anyone else on that team plays initiator.”

Although Sangyeon seems to believe his proposed line-up is the best one yet, your coach shakes his head. “Eunchae isn’t playing.” He glances at her before saying, “She told me beforehand.” All eyes are now on the teen who only shows an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I wanted to take a break from this year’s VCT to focus on my studies.”

Sangyeon scratches the back of his neck. “Well—”

“Hey,” Sakura cuts into the conversation. “Haven’t we considered that Y/N and Sunwoo might not want to play together?” She looks at you two with scrunched eyebrows, clearly confused by your coach’s proposal. “I mean, we all know their relationship, no?”

Your feud isn’t under the table. All of the players know about your distaste towards each other but they don’t know where it stems from.

“Yes, but their playstyles complement each other.” Everyone’s confused as to why Younghoon is persistent. “Out of all my mentees, I’ve worked with them the most, and I know exactly how they can work together.”

“Well, I want Y/N on that team.” As your manager says that, all the attention is now on you. You’re not sure why Sangyeon would say that. Uncomfortable with how you’ve become the topic of the conversation, you cannot help but sink into your seat.

“And I agree with you. But if we’re going to have Y/N play, I need Sunwoo on that team.” You lock eyes with Sunwoo briefly as your coach says that. “He’s my one-pick, and I know he’ll help the team out the most.” Sangyeon sighs, rethinking the roster once more. You shift your gaze to the ground, clearly unhappy being paired with the player across from you.

You weren’t happy that the two continued to discuss the final roster without asking you, but before you could speak up, someone beat you to it.

“Shouldn’t Y/N take a break?” Your gaze lands on the boy across from you, eyebrows now furrowed over his suggestion. “I mean, they did just come from winning Game Changers. We can have Juyeon take over.” When you spot a small smirk resting on his lips, you ball your fists.

Whatever game Sunwoo is playing, you don’t want any part of it. If anything, whatever he’s trying to insinuate has you clenching your teeth. And you’re about to retort—

“No,” Sangyeon says, speaking on your behalf. “Y/N’s a good leader and a team player. I trust Y/N the most out of all the people on the roster.”

Sunwoo raises his hands in defense. “It was only a suggestion.” But when he glances at you, you don’t miss the sinister smile on his face.

Not only was Sunwoo trying to bench you out of the competition but Sangyeon and Younghoon were too invested in their conversation, speaking on your behalf as if you were nothing but a tool for the organization. Without a second thought, you stand up from your seat. Everyone’s eyes are on you as you storm out of the room.

That’s the thing about being a pro player in the esports scene; no one seems to listen to you if you aren’t a man.

For once, silence settles amongst everyone. Your departure is a message, one that everyone failed to see earlier on.

A sigh leaves Sakura. “I know we’re all worried about VCT but let’s not forget to hear everyone out, okay?” She glances at the doors that are now shut closed, wondering where you may have gone. “You know Y/N. Just avoid speaking on their behalf and let them talk for themselves.”

“Yeah,” Eunchae huffs, “let’s give them time to cool down. We only wrapped up Game Changers a few weeks ago.”

As Younghoon crosses his arms, a sigh leaves him as he looks down to the floor. “Sorry, Sangyeon and I were too caught up with what we wanted.” He glances at his watch before shifting his gaze to the players who sit idly. “Let’s talk about this again once they come back.”

In the eye of a hurricane stands you, a witness to the chaos, wondering what course of action nature shall take upon you. Somehow, your screams are soundless—not a single soul minds the hurricane for as long as it doesn’t hit them.

You stand in front of the washroom mirror, taking your time to recollect your thoughts. The stress that comes from the upcoming VCT, the pressure to represent HYST once more, the likelihood of working with Kim Sunwoo for the first time—there’s nothing you can control.

The stars point you towards acceptance, perseverance.

It’s not that you were against representing HYST for the upcoming VCT events. If anything, you were grateful that Sangyeon and Younghoon trusted you to undertake such an important role.

Although you’ve competed in Game Changers, the audience it attracts is smaller in comparison to the ones your manager and coach want to see you in. All eyes will be on you as you compete to reach to Champions.

The weight that comes with playing in a worldwide esports event, one that most of the community is tuned into, rests on your shoulders—a coalition of anxiety from every round that plays out, migraines from reconfiguring your strategies, the comments of you playing just because you aren’t a man. Those reasons should be enough for you to decline the offer, to protect your peace, and to make more out of your streams.

But nothing can compare to bringing back home the fruit of your labor—the Champions Cup—the recognition that comes from competing, and the bond built amongst teammates. If you got to experience all that from Game Changers, you’re almost certain that VCT will bring experiences to be marked in your books.

But what do you know, right?

With a mind clearer after today’s event, you exit the washroom, still deciding whether you should compete or not. Yet, it’s as if the universe has plans to provoke you as you come face-to-face with the last person you want to see.

His eyes lock with yours and a snarl appears on his face. “What? I had to use the washroom.” Defensive, like always.

Before you can make your way back to the conference room, he grabs your arm, holding you back. You glare at Sunwoo, your eyes glancing at his hand on your arm, and he lets go.

He bites the inside of his cheek. “I know we don’t like each other.” Tell me about it. “But,” he sucks in a breath as he stares back at you. “I know we want to prove ourselves, so why don’t we just suck it up and work together?”

Anyone could believe that Sunwoo’s trying to play nice with you—he’s willing to make amends in hopes that there’s no bad blood between you two—but you could care less about what this man has to say.

“It’s not that easy,” you start. “You don’t understand what I want.” Unlike him, you know that proving yourself does nothing.

His frowns over your words. “What do you mean—”

“Sunwoo, you can easily say you want to play to prove yourself,” you cut him off. “I can’t say the same for me. It’s a privilege enough that I can even play in these events.” You jab your index finger against his chest, making him stagger backward.

That’s what makes you and Sunwoo different; while he chases praises from a few lucky plays, you’re left to deal with the backlash from just breathing.

If Sunwoo wants to retort, you don’t give him the chance to do so as you walk away from him. As you reach the doors, you take a deep breath in before swinging them open. The chatter is interrupted by your presence as you make your way back to your seat.

Sunwoo follows shortly, keeping his gaze on you as he takes his seat. You would’ve ignored the way he looks at you but the eye contact you two exchange amplifies what you told him then in the halls. So when an ominous grin appears on your face, the lousy bridge he tried to build towards you crumbles. After all, it was constructed on a poor attempt to save his career.

“Count me in.”

ROUND 2: “YOUR BIGGEST MISTAKE WAS THAT YOU PISSED ME OFF.”

With every day that passes, the weight of VCT rests heavier on your shoulders. Playing with a team you don’t compete with is not easy. Yet, you’re hopeful today—it’s all you have, after all.

As you enter the practice room, you are greeted by the chilly air that emits from the air conditioners. The practice room resembles an internet cafe; desks are lined up with monitors and keyboards while CPUs are placed under the tables.

You catch sight of Sakura and Haknyeon chatting away as they sit in front of their assigned computers. Jacob, however, is busy talking to Younghoon; you can only assume they’re talking about possible strategies.

Before you take a seat beside Haknyeon, you make sure to greet everyone. “And I couldn’t believe Juyeon just fell to the floor!” He exclaims which has Sakura laughing.

“What’d I miss?”

Haknyeon looks at you on the brink of tears before he retells the story. “Okay, because you know how Juyeon and I share a room?” You nod. “So, I told Juyeon to shut the lights off on his way to bed because I was ready to go to sleep. But somehow, he got lazy while walking so he had this genius idea to just jump to the bed.” At this point, your friend is laughing in between words, and the story has gone incomprehensible.

“And the next thing you know it, Haknyeon hears a sudden thump.”

You burst into laughter over the story. “You’re telling me he missed?!” The only answers you get are chortles from the two.

Preparations for VCT have fueled your anxiety for many reasons, possible losses and backlash to name a few, but Haknyeon and Sakura bring pockets of sunshine amidst the storm. If they weren’t here, you wouldn’t know how to deal with your worries.

“Sorry, I’m late!” Your mood shifts as your last teammate enters the room with an iced americano in his hand. You both lock eyes for a brief moment before you shift your gaze back to your friends, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Okay, hurry! Everyone, start fixing your setups,” Younghoon orders as he claps his hands, grabbing everyone’s attention.

You chose your seat in hopes that Jacob would sit beside you, making it easier for you both to discuss possible team strategies. Yet, the other in-game leader sits somewhere else, leaving Sunwoo to take the spot next to you. Your bubbly mood has turned sour.

“Anyway, today we will be having a practice match! So, what to expect is that…”

Younghoon’s words fall flat on your ears as your heartbeat fills your ears. As you try to fix your monitor and audio settings to fit your preferences, you hope that the anxiety will die down. Yet, you feel a pair of eyes stare a hole right into you—annoyance now accompanies your anxiety.

“Can you mind your own business and listen to Coach?” You raise the question, only loud enough for your annoying teammate to hear.

“I am paying attention.”

You scoff, “Oh, so you’ll listen now?” You rip your gaze away from the computer to glare at Sunwoo. “You didn’t listen to me last time.”

A few days ago, your team decided to scrimmage against the other members of the organization. It was a good way to practice before signing up for scrimmages against other teams participating.

Unfortunately for you, it was a match that solidified your dislike of the player. With every round, he found ways to get on your nerves, ignoring your comms and playing for himself to name a few. If you were going to be honest, you expected a bit more from Sunwoo—Sangyeon is right about his stance on the player.

Sunwoo shrugs, glancing at your coach who continues to explain today’s practice match. “I don’t know, your strats weren’t making sense last time. I trust Jacob more.”

You clench your fists as you close your eyes briefly in disbelief. “So, if it’s a man speaking, you’ll listen?” You shake your head in disbelief as you return your attention to the computer. “Jacob and I had the same plan, asshole.”

If Sunwoo wanted to defend himself, he’s not allowed to do so as Younghoon calls on both of your names. “Hey, are you listening?” The two of you nod profusely in a poor attempt to hide your conversation. “Okay then. For today’s scrimmage, you’ll be going against RUSH.”

There’s no way, right? “Sorry, did you say RUSH?” You earn a nod from him, and your world tilts on its axis. After how many years, it only took one scrimmage for you to reunite with your reasons behind why you stand in the pro scene today—Jeon Jungkook and Eric Sohn.

The three of you first met each other in university in a club full of people who liked to play video games. At first, you weren’t sure why you joined in the first place, dreading the possibility of dealing with men who would throw misogynistic comments towards you. Yet, the universe found a way to make sure you would enjoy your stay, gifting you two boys who became your best friends from university.

“Today is the perfect time to get to know your opponents, get a feel of what they do. I know that you guys have started playing together, trying to get a feel of what it’s like to play together, but I hope this scrimmage will build on it,” Younghoon says as your team quickly logs into their accounts on Discord.

Once you’ve logged in, you notice that Younghoon has sent you an invite to a Discord server. You accept it, greeted by the huge selection of teams participating, and you catch sight of RUSH in a voice channel. All of their gamer tags are recognizable, but two of them have stuck with you since your university days.

“You can all jump on the voice channel with them. Don’t forget to introduce yourselves.”

You’re the first to hop on a call and your teammates follow you shortly. Usually, you were the type to have someone lead the conversation, but to say you were excited to talk to your old friends would be an understatement. “Hi, everyone.”

“Oh my god, is that Y/N?” Jungkook asks, surprised by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Y/N?!” Eric’s microphone crackles over how loud he exclaims your name, and a grin rests on your lips over the reactions.

There they are. “I know, it’s been forever. I haven’t talked to you both since we graduated.”

The next thing you know, their faces appear on the screen; they don’t look too different from when you last saw them, but they’ve grown up. “Is it actually you?!” Jungkook asks. “I won’t believe it until I see you.”

A chuckle leaves your lips over your old friend’s words. “God, I’ll turn my cam on.” You click on the video icon, revealing your poor attempt to hold back your grin. “Happy now?”

“It’s been so long, what the fuck? I miss you! Congrats on your win!” Eric says. “Everyone, why don’t we turn on our cams?” Both his teammates and yours have turned their cameras on. “Let’s introduce ourselves.”

The introductions are quick. You learned the real names of Jungkook and Eric’s teammates; Choi Soobin, Jeon Wonwoo, and Lee Jeno. RUSH’s roster is a good selection of players. Your palms get sweaty as you hear your heartbeat in your ears—nothing could’ve prepared you for today’s scrimmage.

Before you can all agree to start the match, Sunwoo pops a question. “Sorry, how do you guys know each other?” You watch his expression through Discord, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

Jungkook chuckles before saying, “We went to uni together, met in this club which we all left after our first year.” All he gets is a hum from your teammate, but you don’t miss the way Sunwoo looks off into nowhere, almost as if he’s irritated—you wonder why his mood shifted. “Anyway, are we ready to have our match?” You all hum in agreement before turning your cameras off.

“Alright, good luck and have fun!”

The worst Valorant matches are the ones that reach overtime. It’s 12 to 13 on Icebox in RUSH’s favor, and your team is on the brink of losing—only one win is needed and your opponent will leave victorious.

“I think we should go through mid and then make our way through A-site.”

You shake your head in disapproval. “No, Jacob, I think we should enter a site together instead. It’s risky to pass through mid since,” you glance at the leaderboard to check how many credits Jungkook has, “I have a strong feeling someone will use an operator.”

Although Jacob seems to consider your suggestion, a groan leaves Sunwoo. “Wouldn’t it be better to split up?”

“No, we’re not strong enough to fight our own battles. We need to play together, fight together.” You would like to think that your team can handle isolated battles, but you guys were weak against RUSH. Perhaps they had good reflexes or better game sense.

As the timer starts to count down, Jacob orders, “Okay, we’ll go with Y/N’s plan. The most important thing is that we don’t pick fights on our own and plant the spike.”

The round commences, and you all make your way into your positions; Sakura and Jacob slowly make their way through A-main while you go up to the belt. Haknyeon carefully sets up his trip wires and camera before joining you.

“I’m going to dart first.” Once you get your recon bolt out, you shoot it far enough to land on the wall; it catches the presence of Soobin and Wonwoo. The toxic screen goes up, perfectly concealing the site.

“Go!”

It happens all too quickly, shots fired and damage dealt and received. Before you know it, your team is dead—except for one who didn’t seem to listen to your plans.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you say as you spectate Sunwoo, watching that he’s making his way back to where you guys died, leaving mid. There are only two players that he needs to fight, Jungkook on Jett and Eric on Deadlock. You know the round is tense, and the last thing you want to do is aggravate him.

Thankfully, Sunwoo plants the spike, but he situates himself in a spot that wouldn’t allow him to reposition quickly. A pair of footsteps go up the stairs, signaling that someone is making their way to heaven.

For a moment, he keeps his gaze affixed to screens, but he looks back to A-main, expecting a flank, and he’s right; Eric comes into his vision.

You expect Sunwoo to win the fight, but when his body falls to the ground, a sigh leaves you. The mood has plummeted, sinking into murky waters of frustration, disappointment. “Fuck, sorry,” Sunwoo apologizes as he covers his mouth in frustration.

“It’s okay, you tried,” Jacob attempts to console his teammate. “Good work, everyone.”

The spike gets defused; HYST has lost against RUSH.

“Come on, let’s go hop on a call with them again.”

With that, your team follows Jacob’s orders. “Tight match everyone, but a fun one!” Wonwoo says.

“Yeah, thanks for the game,” Sakura responds, trying to stay in high spirits.

“Well, we have to get going. We have another scrimmage,” Eric starts. “Y/N, send me your number through DMs. Let’s hang with Jungkook.”

You hum, a small smile resting on your lips. “Sure, see you guys in Challengers.” With that, everyone leaves the voice channel.

While RUSH is probably celebrating their win, HYST is in low spirits. It’s a practice match, sure, but still a match nevertheless.

“Good work, everyone,” Younghoon says in an attempt to cheer everyone up. “I really liked the energy I saw from you guys. You all put up a good fight and fought together.”

Although everyone seems to hum in agreement with your coach, you don’t join in. “Why did you stray off?” You redirect your gaze to the boy beside you, only earning a frown. “Didn’t we agree to play together?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “Yeah, but—”

“But what, Sunwoo? What could’ve been the reason for you to not enter with us and not follow the game plan?” You’re frustrated over everything; the stress of VCT, your loss against RUSH, your teammate who never listens to you.

“Hey, knock it off!” Younghoon gets in between you two. “Now is not the time to be fighting.” You and Sunwoo only glare at each other. “Cannot believe I’m dealing with a bunch of 5-year-olds,” he mutters under his breath.

“Jacob and Sakura, nice work in holding B-site, by the way. Haknyeon, you also did well holding A-site.” Then, your coach glances between you two. “Now, we still need to work on your coordination and teamwork.” It’s a statement for your whole team, but it feels as if it were directed at you and Sunwoo. You wish you sat out of VCT.

“You can go now.”

With that, everyone gets ready to exit the practice room. Your coach is the first one out. You think you’re at fault for causing stress on him but if only Sunwoo would work with you—listen, for the matter—then maybe you two wouldn’t be in this mishap.

“Hey, you two.” You look at Jacob who calls on you and Sunwoo. “Can you stay behind for a bit?” You glance at Haknyeon and Sakura who observe the interaction briefly. As you both nod, your other teammates have taken their leave.

Now, you stand in front of him with your teammate beside you. A sigh leaves him as he rubs his jaw while a frown rests on his face. You only see Jacob like this when he’s focused on his games, but never when it comes to dealing with issues like what your team (or you and Sunwoo, really) has.

“I know you two don’t like each other, and I still don’t know why.” You and Sunwoo exchange glances before ignoring each other once more. “But you understand that you both signed up for VCT, right? That means you will be playing many matches together.”

You’re aware that agreeing to represent HYST means having to work with Sunwoo. Your reasons for participating are enough to convince you that you handle all the upcoming matches with Sunwoo—all adversities will be dealt with. Yet, you couldn’t speak for your teammate.

“So, I’m asking that you guys focus on working together. I’m not asking you to make up or anything but to still be professional around each other. We still have to win the qualifiers, so no funny business, okay?”

Jacob was right. Your dispute is getting in the way of team dynamics, holding HYST back, and you didn’t want to inconvenience your team any further. With that, you nod, begrudgingly accepting Jacob’s request. You can spot Sunwoo nodding along with you in the corner of your eye.

“Okay, thanks. You can both go now.”

When you and Sunwoo leave the practice room, not a single word is exchanged.

ROUND 3: “DON’T LOOK SO SMUG, SUNWOO!”

Over the last months, you and your team have spent every waking hour on Valorant—practice, practice, practice, until you all felt satisfied.

To say you were sick of the game is an understatement, but some of your teammates try to make every minute enjoyable; Haknyeon would goof off some rounds and knife opponents from behind, Jacob would make comments that you never would’ve imagined leaving his mouth, and Sakura would ask questions about everyone before every round. You take your part in lifting the spirits and making these matches less monotonous by reading stories from the r/AmITheAsshole subreddit.

As for your relationship with Sunwoo, you’ve tried to keep it professional. During matches and strategizing phases, you would communicate with each other, exchanging ideas of how to win these games. Outside of those periods, however, were spent ignoring each other’s existence.

Thankfully, all those months of practicing didn’t go to waste—your team went against multiple organizations during Qualifiers, and now you’re on the last leg of the event. Only one more win is needed and your team makes it to Challengers.

Now, your team is in the practice room, head-to-head against another team. It’s 11 to 12 in your team’s favor on Ascent. It’s absurd that your opponents made a comeback from 3-9, but you’ll blame it on the superstition.

“Let’s play default. Their team tends to push out anyway,” Jacob orders before he takes a sip of water. “I’ll play by tiles while Sakura and Haknyeonie can go to A-site. Sunwoo and Y/N, play near B-site. Just make sure to not get caught by their Sova’s recon dart.” Everyone on your team agrees with Jacob’s plan.

The round commences. Just like what Jacob called out, a recon dart is thrown, but it doesn’t catch sight of you and Sunwoo. “Sova’s by B-site,” Sunwoo tells the team.

“I hear footsteps by tree,” Sakura starts, and Jacob takes it as his sign to smoke the cubby off. Before you know it, he takes a peek at mid and kills off the enemy team’s Gekko. Sakura flashes A-site before double-swinging with Haknyeon. “There are three players by A-site! Go to B-site!”

You and Sunwoo start to make your way through B-site. You walk in front of him, trying to smoke off hall and market. It should’ve occurred to you how weird it is that Sunwoo trails behind you, but it doesn’t, and you choose to enter the site.

The next thing you know, your body flops to the ground, and you let out a groan. As you spectate Sunwoo, he successfully trades you. “Spike down B,” the announcer voices out. Now, it’s a three versus one battle.

“Astra’s with me! Go plant,” Haknyeon calls out, and Sunwoo listens. He plants the spike like a breeze and situates himself in the boathouse.

Jacob tucks himself by mid, waiting for Astra to pass through spawn. “I can catch Astra off-guard while you try to pinch them,” he tells Haknyeon. Within a few seconds, he successfully lands his shots and kills Astra, securing HYST a win—your team will be participating in Challengers.

Everyone cheers, getting off their seats and huddling into a group hug. “Holy shit, Jacob! That was such a good 3K!” Haknyeon cheers as he’s overfilled with joy.

Your teammate tries to shrug off the compliments. “We all did good.”

A pair of arms wrap around you and Jacob. “That was an amazing play!” Younghoon is thrilled by today’s matches. “WE’RE GOING TO CHALLENGERS!”

It’s a dream come true; you’ll be competing on stage in front of a wider audience against teams who are more capable than you—who have more experience than you—but the journey has only started. You wonder what the upcoming months will have in store for you and your team—what will time do for you and Sunwoo?

You’re the first to break up from the hug, everyone else following along. “I’m going to call Sangyeon over,” your coach announces before making his way out of the practice room.

Then, Haknyeon pulls out his phone. “Wait, the guys are blowing up our group chat. I’ll just call them.”

Sunwoo is about to follow his teammates, but you grab hold of his forearm as you hold him back, and he frowns at you. “I need to talk to Sunwoo,” you smile at the other guys who only glance at each other, confused by your actions. Yet, they let the matter go, letting you deal with your business with him.

Sakura grabs your shoulder. “I’m going to call the team. Anything you want me to tell them?”

“I’ll tell them myself, it’s okay. You can go.”

With that, it was only you and your teammate.

You let go of his arm and a frown replaces the grin you once showed. “What was that during the last round?” As Sunwoo scrunches his eyebrows further, you groan. “You literally baited me.”

An exasperated sigh leaves him. “God, it’s not that serious.”

“Sunwoo, you’re playing duelist. You’re supposed to be entering sites for the team.”

“And I do!” He glares at you, annoyed by your complaints. “We still won. Can’t you just be happy that we made it to Challengers?”

That’s the thing you hate about playing with Sunwoo; if the outcome is good, he’ll turn a blind eye to his mistakes. How does he improve as a player if he doesn’t acknowledge his faults?

He’s about to turn away from you—make his way to his teammates and celebrate today’s win—but you grab his hand and pull him close to you. The sudden action almost has him toppling over you, and thankfully, his reflexes are quick enough to make sure you both don’t fall.

But the distance between you two is smaller, his eyes wide while yours remain stern. He holds his breath while yours grazes his skin.

You’ve never seen him this way—compliant, obedient—and it’s a sight to behold, one you’d like to keep for yourself. If only he were like this to you, then maybe you wouldn’t—no, snap out of it.

“Sunwoo.” He gulps at the way you call his name. “I’m your controller, I’m supposed to stay alive longer to support you.” You hold his gaze. “Try to keep this behavior up during the rest of VCT, I dare you.”

There’s malice laced in your tone, an attempt to make him cower—obey—over your threat, and you know your job is successful when Sunwoo doesn’t try to retort. He has every opportunity to retort—rile you up like all other times—and yet, he remains silent.

With that, you let go of his hand, stepping away to give you both room to breathe. Patches of warmth litter all over your skin, from your neck to your chest. To have Sunwoo look at you like that has—

“Guys!” Younghoon comes back rushing into the room with Sangyeon trailing behind him. You catch sight of the smile that rests on your manager’s face, clearly proud of your team. “Let’s look at the list of the teams who made it to Challengers.”

Your coach fiddles with the television remote and opens up the stream. Just in time, you’re able to look through the teams who made it to the next event. As you spot HYST in a sea of esteemed teams, fulfillment bubbles within you.

Yet, you know the battle doesn’t end here. RUSH makes the cut—will your team remain victorious or will it meet its demise?

ROUND 4: “YOU’RE HERE TO TAKE MY KILLS, SUNWOO? LET’S MAKE IT A COMPETITION.”

You were lying when you said you were sick of Valorant. There were other games you could be playing, Minecraft, Overwatch, and Stardew Valley to name a few. Yet, here you are, playing your favorite (read: most hated) game for today’s stream.

“I won’t lie, I’m not sure why I’m playing this game on stream,” you chuckle. “Like, I could be playing something else to save my mental health.” The comments keep coming as you ramble, trying to kill time.

keybladetwo: CONGRATS IN PLAYOFFS!!! GOODLUCK IN CHALLENGERS orangecheeko: HYST TAKEOVER 🔥🔥🔥 hungrydinosaur: the 3k bae did last round was INSANE

A flood of compliments comes your way, making you smile. “Awe. Thanks, everyone! I still can’t believe I’ll be playing for Challengers, and then there’ll be Masters and Champions.”

reingoaway: how was it like playing with the others :O noxturnal: U and Jacob on the same team must be crazy! Aren’t u both IGLs

A hum leaves you as you think over your answers. “It’s fun for the most part,” you admit. “I mean, it took us a while to get used to each other’s playstyles, but I’d like to think that the practice paid off.”

You fiddle around with your Valorant collection, changing skins on some firearms. “I’d like to think Jacob and I do pretty well in strategizing in the middle of matches. Sure, we have our fair share of contrasting opinions but we always consider each other’s ideas.”

Although the time you spend practicing with your team can be tiresome, your teammates try to make every round enjoyable. It’s thanks to them that you’re able to deal with the weight of VCT for the most part. There is burnout that comes from playing the same game at a pro level—at least you have most of your teammates to thank for the most part.

tagmeup: Will you play with nuguri? ailguriluver: YEAA u guys go crazy together ashfallen: nuguri & ailurus stream 🙏

You would’ve ignored it as you used to with all other streams, but your chat seems to flood the same question; there’s no escape even in the safety of your own channel. “Uh,” you scratch the back of your neck, “I didn’t really plan to stream with nuguri.”

nugunuguwho: He’s on stream right now!

“He is?” You bite the inside of your cheek as you type out his username on Twitch. His profile shows up, showing that he’s live, and you adjust your stream so that it shows your browser. Now, your audience can see that you’ve searched him up.

Once you click his stream, you are greeted with the words “DEFEAT” flashing on the screen. “Aish, fuck this game!” On the top left corner of the screen is your teammate, all dressed in a gray hoodie with hair messier than usual, and frames resting on the bridge of his nose. He leans back on his chair, tonguing the inside of his cheek out of frustration from losing a match.

The screen shifts to the match summary, showing that he’s currently 00RR in Ascendant 3. “Man, you would think that people in these ranks would at least understand to comm!” He then showcases his match history and—holy shit, it’s a red carpet. “Guys, it’s not looking good.”

You hide your smile behind the back of your hand. Although you make comments about how terrible of a player Sunwoo is, you would’ve never imagined him to be on such a horrendous losing streak.

(At the same time, it could be the fault of his teammates, but you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. He’s an awful player, point blank.)

“Ailurus is on my stream?” You are snapped out of your thoughts as he mentions your gamer tag. “How do you know?” He scrunches his eyebrows as he reads the chat. “They’re streaming?”

You rush to close the window and frown at the camera. “I can’t believe you guys sold me out!” As you shake your head, you shift your stream back to the game. “I was trying to spy on him! Anyway, I’m going to queue up because I cannot have Sunwoo ruining my win streak.”

You’re about to queue into a game, hoping to end the discussion, but your eyes catch sight of a familiar name and you halt your movements.

nuguri: r u down to play?

It’s an internal battle—should you pretend you didn’t see Sunwoo’s message or should you fake your relationship with him?

Time ticks. The more you contemplate, the more you realize that you can’t play off that you saw his message in a sea of unfamiliar usernames. You’ve dug up your hole—there’s no turning back now.

“Okay, add my alt account.” Not a single mention of his name, and yet, your audience knows exactly who you’re talking to. The chat is filled with messages of excitement.

A friend request has been sent to you. “Is “sawako’s bf” your fucking alt?” Your gaze shifts to the chat, waiting for a message from Sunwoo.

nuguri: check discord

You roll your eyes before accepting his request on Valorant before opening up Discord. Another friend request has come in, and—is that a Smiski as his display picture? Your mouth parts open as you accept his request. Before you can shoot him a message, he calls you, and you don’t think twice before picking it up.

“I didn’t know you liked Smiskis,” you admit, surprised by the sight of the figurine. The sight of your profile picture, a Smiski from a different series, beside his photo is humorous—who would’ve thought that you two would match? “I didn’t even know you had another Discord account.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. “I mean, you just don’t look like the type you know? You reek of “loser e-boy that can’t do shit” energy.” As you hear him gasp, you chuckle.

Perhaps it helped to interact with Sunwoo in front of an audience. You can say diss him if you wanted, boiling it down to banter, and no one would question it.

“First off, I have a Discord account for work and another one for just personal use. And second, I am not a fuckass e-boy.” His defensive energy has you rolling your eyes. “Hey, I see you rolling your eyes!”

“The fuck? Get out of my stream,” you say as you glance at the camera. As you go back to Valorant, you see that you’re invited to Sunwoo’s party. Once you accept the invite, Sunwoo queues you both up for a Ranked match. “If we lose, I’m blaming it on you.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault that I lost all my matches today.”

You bite on the inside of your cheek, holding back your laughter just in case he’s still watching your stream. “Okay, whatever you say. I know you only peaked Immortal 1.”

“Immortal 1 is a good rank! What are you trying to say?” A chuckle leaves him as he says those words, clearly knowing that he’s unfortunately not like you who is currently ranked at Immortal 2.

“I think you just want me to boost you.”

“Match found,” the announcer voices out. You are greeted by the opening screen of Sunset.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m down on my luck that I need someone to boost me.” Sarcasm is evident in his tone, and you can’t help but laugh. The screen then shifts to agent select. “What’s good, everyone?” A bad attempt at deep voice leaves Sunwoo as he talks to a team full of strangers.

You’re thrown back by the sudden tone shift, causing a giggle to leave you. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Go! Talk to the team.” You shake your head as if he can see you. (Maybe he’s still watching you, after all.) He hovers over Reyna before telling you, “It won’t hurt.”

The thing about you is that you would never talk to a team full of strangers, but you don’t think twice when you say, “I’m good,” before hovering over Omen.

“There we go!” He exclaims in your call. You try to hold back your grin.

Unfortunately, the moment doesn’t last long. “Didn’t you mean to hover over Sage?” A stranger on your team asks.

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“Because you’re a woman.”

You should’ve seen this coming—there’s a reason why you don’t like to speak in this game.

“Just because I’m born a woman doesn’t mean I need to play that agent. I can play Skye if we need a healer,” you suggest, trying to keep your cool over what the stranger says.

“Nah, Skye might be too complex for you.”

You’re thinking if you should just lock in on Omen or retort, but both choices lead to an outcome where they’ll constantly be on your ass. Before you can make a decision, however, someone speaks.

“Hey, let them play whoever they want to play. You can play Sage if you really want,” Sunwoo cuts into the conversation, hoping to diffuse the situation. But when a chuckle leaves the stranger, you know it’s far from reaching that.

“Ah, I see how it is. How’s the head?”

You’ve officially reached your limit, and it seems Sunwoo has reached his as well. “This shit isn’t worth it,” Sunwoo ends the conversation with that. Before you know it, you’re back in the lobby, alone. “Sorry, I quit the game. Just give me a second to boot it up.”

As you hear those words, warmth surges within you. You don’t like your teammate at all and he’s never given you any reason to treat him with kindness, but just this one action is enough to make you see him in a different light—is he rotten to the core or have you been blinded this whole time?

Before you know it, he requests to join your party, and you accept the invite. When your eyes catch sight that he’s deranked to Ascendant 2, it hits you that he lost some RR just to avoid playing with the player who was giving you a hard time.

(Would it be bad to hope he did it for you?)

You hop in the queue to find another match.

It’s quiet for a moment; the mood has been ruined by some stranger on Valorant. Yet, Sunwoo seems to have something under his sleeve, a way to lift your spirit. “What if we pick each other’s agents?”

“This is a ranked match. You know that, right?”

Sunwoo lets out a groan. “I know that! But think about how fun it would be! We can play each other’s mains!”

“Do you really want to play Omen or Sova?” The screen then shows you’ll be playing on Pearl. “I thought you wanted to win some games.”

“Hey, I can definitely play those agents!” You roll your eyes over his words, clearly not believing him. “Let’s make it a competition. Whoever gets placed on top of the leaderboard wins, but you play Raze while I play Omen.”

A hum leaves you as you contemplate his proposal. “What’s the prize?”

“Well,” Sunwoo pauses, thinking over what can be done. “What if the winner gets their wish granted by the loser?”

“A wish? What type of wish?”

“Well, that’s for us to determine in our own time.”

You should’ve said no—why would you agree to such a bet with the one guy you can’t stand being in a room with? But the problem is that your pride is on the line, and you wanted to prove to Sunwoo that you could do his job better as a duelist.

So, you don’t think twice when you say, “Ah, fuck it. Let’s do it.”

You should’ve played Raze earlier on in your esports career. The match passes you like a breeze, entering and clearing sites and shots landing on your opponents every round. You don’t remember having this much fun playing Raze for the first time.

But somehow, the universe didn’t listen to your wishes—Sunwoo sits on the top of the leaderboard while you’re under him.

“Fuck! I only needed one assist and I would’ve beaten you.” As you complain, your teammate laughs.

“Ah, I wonder what I should have you do for me.”

You roll your eyes before looking at the time. “God, it’s that late already? I think I’m gonna end the stream already.”

“Yeah, me too. I’ll be back.” Before you know it, he deafens himself on Discord.

A sigh leaves you before you briefly look through the chat. “Sorry guys, I’m gonna end it early. I still need to pack my suitcase for Challengers next week.” There’s a mix of comments, ones that beg you to stay while others that thank you for today’s stream. “I’ll try to stream again before I leave but no promises. Bye, everyone! Hope you enjoy the rest of your days!”

With that, you end the stream. Another good stream out of you despite how short it was.

The most surprising thing to come out of this stream is that you were enjoying your time with Sunwoo. Whether it may be from the later hours of the day or just a front that he was putting up for the audience, you didn’t want to think too much of it. You’ll accept it for what it is now.

As you quit out of some of your applications, you look back at Discord to see that he’s back.

For a moment, it’s quiet. There’s an internal struggle within you—should you thank him for what he said earlier or not?

You didn’t want to call attention to the issue anymore. Unfortunately, you’ve had your fair share of experiences with misogyny throughout your life, and it pained you to say that this wasn’t the worst thing you’ve heard.

But he beats you to it, almost as if he was bothered by the silence, and says, “I’ll think about the wish for a bit, just want to think of my options.”

A groan rips out of you. “Don’t make me do anything stupid, please.”

He hums for a moment, almost as if he was considering your request, but you know who he is. “No guarantee! I’ll see you soon.”

Before you can retort, he ends the call. You stare blankly at your screen. If you thought Sunwoo was okay, you were absolutely wrong. He’s still a shithead.

But when you get in bed, you stare at the ceiling for a moment, and you can’t wipe off the grin that rests on your lips.

God, you need to sleep.

perma taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @vernyangel @mosviqu @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs

series taglist ➵ @wooluv09 @untilsunset @hiefisch @wonuroyal @sunkitti

if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback! don't just like :]

#deoboyznet #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #works of moni #kim sunwoo #the boyz #the boyz x reader #kim sunwoo x reader #the boyz angst #the boyz imagines #kim sunwoo angst #kim sunwoo smut #kim sunwoo the boyz #sunwoo the boyz

237 notes · View notes